if ever I see repentance in thy face, a coldness in thy eyes (which heaven divert) by that bright heaven I will die; you may believe me, since I had the courage and durst love thee, and after that durst sacrifice my fame, lose all to justify that love, will, when a change so fatal shall arrive, find courage too to die; yes, die _Philander_, assure thyself I will, and therefore have a care of SYLVIA. * * * * * _To_ PHILANDER. OH, where shall I find repose, where seek a silent quiet, but in my last retreat, the grave! I say not this, my dearest _Philander_, that I do or ever can repent my love, though the fatal source of all: for already we are betrayed, our race of joys, our course of stolen delight is ended ‘ere begun. I chid, alas, at morning’s dawn, I chid you to be gone, and yet, heaven knows, I grasped you fast, and rather would have died than parted with you; I saw the day come on, and cursed its busy light, and still you cried, one blessed minute more, before I part with all the joys of life! And hours were minutes then, and day grew old upon us unawares, it was all abroad, and had called up all the household spies to pry into the secrets of our loves, and thou, by some tale-bearing flatterer, were seen in passing through the garden; the news was carried to my father, and a mighty consult has been held in my mother’s apartment, who now refuses to see me; while I, possessed with love, and full of wonder at my new change, lulled with dear contemplation, (for I am altered much since yesterday, however thou hast charmed me) imagining none knew our theft of love, but only heaven and _Melinda_. But oh, alas, I had no sooner finished this enclosed, but my father entered my cabinet, but it was with such a look----as soon informed me all was betrayed to him; a while he gazed on me with fierceness in his eyes, which so surprised and frighted me, that I, all pale and trembling, threw myself at his feet; he, seeing my disorder, took me up, and fixed so steadfast and so sad a look upon me, as would have broken any heart but mine, supported with _Philander_’., image; I sighed and wept--and silently attended when the storm should fall, which turned into a shower so soft and piercing, I almost died to see it; at last delivering me a paper--’Here,’ (cried he, with a sigh and trembling-interrupted voice) ’.ead what I cannot tell thee. Oh, _Sylvia_,’ cried he, ‘--thou joy and hope of all my aged years, thou object of my dotage, how hast thou brought me to my grave with sorrow!’ So left me with the paper in my hand: speechless, unmov’d a while I stood, till he awaked me by new sighs and cries; for passing through my chamber, by chance, or by design, he cast his melancholy eyes towards my bed, and saw the dear disorder there, unusual--then cried--’Oh, wretched _Sylvia_, thou art lost!’ And left me almost fainting. The letter, I soon found, was one you’d sent from _Dorillus_ his farm this morning, after you had parted