her, brute; I’ll whistle her off, and let her down the wind, as _Othello_ says. No, I adore the wife, that, when the heart is gone, boldly and nobly pursues the conqueror, and generously owns the whore;--not poorly adds the nauseous sin of jilting to it: that I could have borne, at least commended; but this can never pardon; at worst then the world had said her passion had undone her, she loved, and love at worst is worthy of pity. No, no, _Myrtilla_, I forgive your love, but never can your poor dissimulation. One drives you but from the heart you value not, but the other to my eternal contempt. One deprives me but of thee, _Myrtilla_, but the other entitles me to a beauty more surprising, renders thee no part of me; and so leaves the lover free to _Sylvia_, without the brother. Thus, my excellent maid, I have sent you the sense and truth of my soul, in an affair you have often hinted to me, and I take no pleasure to remember: I hope you will at least think my aversion reasonable; and that being thus indisputably free from all obligations to _Myrtilla_ as a husband, I may be permitted to lay claim to _Sylvia_, as a lover, and marry myself more effectually by my everlasting vows, than the priest by his common method could do to any other woman less beloved; there being no other way at present left by heaven, to render me _Sylvia_’.. _Eternal happy lover and I die to see you_. PHILANDER. * * * * * _To_ SYLVIA. When I had sealed the enclosed, _Brilliard_ told me you were this morning come from _Bellfont_, and with infinite impatience have expected seeing you here; which deferred my sending this to the old place; and I am so vain (oh adorable _Sylvia_) as to believe my fancied silence has given you disquiets; but sure, my _Sylvia_ could not charge me with neglect; no, she knows my soul, and lays it all on chance, or some strange accident, she knows no business could divert me. No, were the nation sinking, the great senate of the world confounded, our glorious designs betrayed and ruined, and the vast city all in flames; like _Nero_, unconcerned, I would sing my everlasting song of love to _Sylvia_; which no time or fortune shall untune. I know my soul, and all its strength, and how it is fortified, the charming _Idea_ of my young _Sylvia_ will for ever remain there; the original may fade; time may render it less fair, less blooming in my arms, but never in my soul; I shall find thee there the same gay glorious creature that first surprised and enslaved me, believe me ravishing maid, I shall. Why then, oh why, my cruel _Sylvia_ are my joys delayed? Why am I by your rigorous commands kept from the sight of my heaven, my eternal bliss? An age, my fair tormentor, is past; four tedious live-long days are numbered over, since I beheld the object of my lasting vows, my eternal wishes; how can you think, oh unreasonable _Sylvia_! that I could live so long without you? And yet