"First it came ftealing on me, whilst I thought " 'Twas easy to repel it; but as fire, "Though but a spark, foon into flames is brought, "Who is it," said Philocrates, "can move Nay," faid Philetus, "oft my eyes do flow "Like Nilus when it fcorns th' oppofed fhore; "Yet all the watery plenty I bestow, "Is to my flame an oil that feeds it more. To which his noble friend did thus reply: "Think all you wish perform'd; but fee, the day, "Tir'd with its heat, is hafting now away !" Home Home from the filent woods night bids them go : What in the day he fears of future woe, At night in dreams, like truth, affrights his mind. Why doft thou vex him, Love? Could'st thou but fee, Thou would'ft thyself Philetus' rival be. Philocrates, pitying his doleful moan, And wounded with the forrows of his friend,. "Faireft," said he, "whom the bright heavens do cover, "Then, fince it only in your power doth lie His gently cruel love did thus reply; Believe "Believe me, virtuous maiden ! my defire "Which goes as foon as it was quickly brought; "Oh! how fhall I reply?" fhe cry'd, " thou 'ft won "My foul, and therefore take thy victory : Thy eyes and speeches have my heart o'ercome, "And if I fhould deny thee love, then I "Should be a tyrant to myself that fire :: "Which is kept clofe burns with the greatest ire. "Yet do not count my yielding lightness, now; Impute it rather to my ardent love; "Thy pleafing carriage won me long ago, "And pleading beauty did my liking move; [might Thy eyes, which draw like loadstones with their "The hardest hearts, won mine to leave me quite." "Oh! I am rapt above the reach," said he, [thee "Of heaven: when, Sweet, my thoughts once tax but crime, may I lose all happiness "With any "Is wifh'd for: both your favour here, and dead, "May the just gods pour vengeance on my head!" Whilft he was.1 as.speaking this (behold their fate !) Conftantia's father enter'd in the room, When glad Philetus, ignorant of his state, Or else the morn, blushing through clouds of water, Juk Juft as the guilty prifoner fearful stands, Of him who both his life and death commands, Nor wifh'd-for, nor expected, in the room. Th' enrag'd old man bids him no more to dare At any time with his loy'd daughter there, Till he had given him fuch authority: But to depart, fince fhe her love did fhew him, Was living death, with lingering torments to him. This being known to kind Philocrates, He chears his friend, bidding him banish fear, THE LETTER. PHILETUS TO CONSTANTIA.. I TRUST, dear foul, my abfence cannot move Then Then let not, dearest Sweet, our absence part The long-expected fruits: have patience, Sweet, So, when we once have wafted forrow's night, PHILETUS. This, when Conftantia read, she thought her state And perfect love: fhe thanks her flattering fate, The welcome characters doth dull and stain: CONSTANTIA TO PHILETUS. YOUR abfence, Sir, though it be long, yet I Neither forget nor doubt your constancy. Nor need you fear that I should yield unto Nor have I power to take it back again. There's nought but death can part our fouls; no time, Or angry friends, fhall make my love decline : But for the harvest of our hopes I'll stay, Unless death cut it, ere 'tis ripe, away. CONSTANTIA. Oh! |