"First it came ftealing on me, whilft I thought ""Twas easy to repel it; but as fire, Though but a spark, foon into flames is brought, "So mine grew great, and quickly mounted higher; "Which so have scorch'd my love-ftruck soul, that I "Still live in torment, yet each minute die." "Who is it," faid Philocrates, " can move "With charming eyes fuch deep affection? "I may perhaps aflift you in your love; "Two can effect more than yourself alone. My counsel this thy error may reclaim, "Or my falt tears quench thy deftructive flame.” "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. "But, being you defire to know her, she To which his noble friend did thus reply: "And was this all? Whate'er your grief would ease, Though a far greater task, believe 't, for thee "It fhould be foon done by Philocrates: "Think all you wish perform'd; but see, 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 'ft thou but fee, Thou would'st thyself Philetus' rival be. Philocrates, pitying his doleful moan, And wounded with the forrows of his friend, "Faireft," faid he," whom the bright heavens do cover, "Then, fince it only in your power doth lie "To kill or fave, Oh! help, or else I die.'* His gently cruel love did thus reply; "I for your pain am grieved, and would do, "Without impeachment of my chastity "And honour, any thing might pleasure you, But, if beyond thofe limits you demand, "I must not answer, Sir, nor understand." 4 "Believe "Believe me, virtuous maiden! my defire "Which goes as foon as it was quickly brought; "Oh! how fhall I reply ?" the cry'd, « thou 'ft won "My foul, and therefore take thy victory: "Thy eyes and fpeeches 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 close burns with the greateft 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." [thee "Oh! I am rapt above the reach,” said he, "Of thought; my foul already feels the bliss "Of heaven: when, Sweet, my thoughts once tax but "With any crime, may I lofe all happiness "Is wish'd for; both your favour here, and dead, "May the just gods pour vengeance on my head!" Whilft he was 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, Juft Juft as the guilty prifoner fearful ftands, Reading his fatal Theta in the brows Of him who both his life and death commands, Th' enrag'd old man bids him no more to dare At any time with his lov'd daughter there, But to depart, fince the her love did shew him, Was living death, with lingering torments to him. This being known to kind Philocrates, He chears his friend, bidding him banish fear, THE PHILETUS LETTER. TO CONSTANTIA. I TRUST, dear foul, my abfence cannot move Then Then let not, deareft Sweet, our abfence part Our loves, but each breast keep the other's heart; The long-expected fruits: have patience, Sweet, Ere night was gone, he saw the rifing day. So, when we once have wasted sorrow's night, PHILETUS. This, when Conftantia read, fhe thought her state And perfect love: fhe thanks her flattering fate, The welcome characters doth dull and ftain: CONSTANTIA TO PHIL ET US. YOUR abfence, Sir, though it be long, yet I Neither forget nor doubt your conftancy. Nor need you fear that I fhould yield unto Nor have I power to take it back again. There's nought but death can part our fouls; no time, But for the harvest of our hopes I'll stay, CONSTANTIA. Oh! |