anger shall demand, and sullenly reply to every question asked and answered, and when I think to ease my soul by a retreat, a thousand soft desires, a thousand wishes wreck me, pain me to raving, till beating the senseless floor with my feet----I cried aloud--’My _Sylvia_!’--thus, thus, my charming dear, the poor _Philander_ is employed when banished from his heaven! If thus it used to be when only that bright outside was adored, judge now my pain, now thou hast made known a thousand graces more--oh, pity me----for it is not in thy power to guess what I shall now endure in absence of thee; for thou hast charmed my soul to an excess too mighty for a patient suffering: alas, I die already---- I am yet at _Dorillus_ his farm, lingering on from one swift minute to the other, and have not power to go; a thousand looks all languishing I’ve cast from eyes all drowned in tears towards _Bellfont_, have sighed a thousand wishes to my angel, from a sad breaking heart--love will not let me go--and honour calls me--alas, I must away; when shall we meet again? Ah, when my _Sylvia_?--Oh charming maid--thou’lt see me shortly dead, for thus I cannot live; thou must be mine, or I must be no more--I must away--farewell--may all the softest joys of heaven attend thee--adieu--fail not to send a hundred times a day, if possible; I’ve ordered _Alexis_ to do nothing but wait for all that comes, and post away with what thou sendest to me----again adieu, think on me----and till thou callest me to thee, imagine nothing upon earth so wretched as _Sylvia_’. own PHILANDER. _Know, my angel, that passing through the garden this morning, I met_ Erasto----_I fear he saw me near enough to know me, and will give an account of it; let me know what happens----adieu half dead, just taking horse to go from_ Sylvia. * * * * * _To_ PHILANDER. _Written in a leaf of a table-book_. I have only time to say, on Thursday I am destined a sacrifice to _Foscario_, which day finishes the life of SYLVIA. * * * * * _To SYLVIA_. _From_ Dorillus _his farm_.