SYL. 'Tis true, my Delia; for though thou wert Privy to my departure, yet the cause Thou couldst not tell, which I will now unfold; And think I trust my honour in thy hands, And maiden modesty: 'twas love that did it.
DEL. Love, madam! Sure, it is impossible You should find anything there worth your love.
SYL. Thou know'st the shepherds that do dwell about This place which, for their entertainments only, The king my father built, did use to come, As now they do, being sent for unto Court: I ever lik'd their sports, their harmless mirth, And their contentions, which were void of malice, And wish'd I had been born just such an one.
DEL. Your state is better, madam, as you are.
SYL. But I confess the rather, 'cause there was One amongst them of a more comely grace (Though none of them did seem uncomely to me) Call'd Thyrsis; and with him methought I could Draw out my life rather than any other, Such things my fancy then suggested to me: So well he sung, so passionate his love Show'd in his verse, thereto so well express'd, As any one would judge it natural: Yet never felt he flame, till this of me: Often he came, and oft'ner was desir'd Of me; nor did I shame in public there Before my father to commend his graces; Which when I did, the whole Court, as they use, Consented with me, and did strive to make them Greater than I or any else could think them: At last I was surpris'd, I could not help it; My fate with love consenting, so would have it: Then did I leave the Court--I've told thee all.
DEL. 'Tis strange! but, madam, though in that disguise, How could you hope (a stranger) to be lov'd Of him you held so dear?
SYL. I feign'd myself Of Smyrna, and from thence some goats I had And sheep, with them a rich commodity. Near him I bought me land to feed them; he Seem'd glad of it, and thinking me a stranger, Us'd me with such civility and friendship, As one would little look for of a shepherd; And did defend me from the avarice Of the old shepherds, which did think to make A prey of what I had. At length I saw He did address himself with fear to me, Still gazing on me. Knowing my love to him, I easily believ'd he lov'd me too-- For love, alas! is ever credulous-- And though I was resolv'd (having my end, Which was no more than to discourse with him) Never to let him know what flame I felt; Yet when I saw his tears, and heard his vows-- Persuasive speakers for affection-- I could not choose but open to his view My loving heart; yet with this caution, That he should ever bear respect unto My honour and my virgin chastity: Which then he vow'd, and his ambition Never was more than to attain a kiss, Which yet he hardly got. Thou seest, sweet Delia, How willingly I dwell upon this theme. But can'st thou help me, now that I have open'd My wound unto thee?