That morning you left the _Brill_, and _Sylvia_ in bed, I must disturb your more serene thoughts with telling you, that her first surprise and griefs at the news of your departure were most deplorable, where raging madness and the softer passion of love, complaints of grief, and anger, sighs, tears and cries were so mixed together, and by turns so violently seized her, that all about her wept and pitied her: it was sad, it was wondrous sad, my lord, to see it: nor could we hope her life, or that she would preserve it if she could; for by many ways she attempted to have released herself from pain by a violent death, and those that strove to preserve that, could not hope she would ever have returned to sense again: sometimes a wild extravagant raving would require all our aid, and then again she would talk and rail so tenderly----and express her resentment in the kindest softest words that ever madness uttered, and all of her _Philander_, till she has set us all a weeping round her; sometimes she'd sit as calm and still as death, and we have perceived she lived only by sighs and silent tears that fell into her bosom; then on a sudden wildly gaze upon us with eyes that even then had wondrous charms, and frantically survey us all, then cry aloud, 'Where is my Lord _Philander_!----Oh, bring me my _Philander_, _Brilliard_: Oh, _Antonet_, where have you hid the treasure of my soul?' Then, weeping floods of tears, would sink all fainting in our arms. Anon with trembling words and sighs she'd cry----'But oh, my dear _Philander_ is no more, you have surrendered him to _France_----Yes, yes, you have given him up, and he must die, publicly die, be led a sad victim through the joyful crowd--reproached, and fall ingloriously----' Then rave again, and tear her lovely hair, and act such wildness,--so moving and so sad, as even infected the pitying beholders, and all we could do, was gently to persuade her grief, and soothe her raving fits; but so we swore, so heartily we vowed that you were safe, that with the aid of _Octavio_, who came that day to visit her, we made her capable of hearing a little reason from us. _Octavio_ kneeled, and begged she would but calmly hear him speak, he pawned his soul, his honour, and his life, _Philander_ was as safe from any injury, either from _France_, or any other enemy, as he, as she, or heaven itself. In fine, my lord, he vowed, he swore, and pleaded, till she with patience heard him tell his story, and the necessity of your absence; this brought her temper back, and dried her eyes, then sighing, answered him----that if for your safety you were fled, she would forgive your cruelty and your absence, and endeavour to be herself again: but then she would a thousand times conjure him not to deceive her faith, by all the friendship that he bore _Philander_, not to possess her with false hopes; then would he swear anew; and as he swore, she would behold him with such charming sadness in her eyes that he almost forgot what he would say, to gaze upon her, and to pass his pity. But, if with all his power of beauty and of rhetoric he left her calm, he was no sooner gone, but she returned to all the tempests of despairing love, to all the unbelief of faithless passion, would neither sleep, nor eat, nor suffer day to enter; but all was sad and gloomy as the vault that held the _Ephesian_ matron, nor suffered she any to approach her but her page, and Count _Octavio_, and he in the midst of all was well received: not that I think, my lord, she feigned any part of that close retirement to entertain him with any freedom, that did not become a woman of perfect love and honour; though I must own, my lord, I believe it impossible for him to behold the lovely _Sylvia_, without having a passion for her. What restraint his friendship to you may put upon his heart or tongue I know not, but I conclude him a lover, though without success; what effects that may have upon the heart of _Sylvia_, only time can render an account of: and whose conduct I shall the more particularly observe from a curiosity natural to me, to see if it may be possible for _Sylvia_ to love again, after the adorable _Philander_, which levity in one so perfect would cure me of the disease of love, while I lived amongst the fickle sex: but since no such thought can yet get possession of my belief, I humbly beg your lordship will entertain no jealousy, that may be so fatal to your repose, and to that of _Sylvia_; doubt not but my fears proceed perfectly from the zeal I have for your lordship, for whose honour and tranquillity none shall venture so far as, my lord, your lordship's most humble and obedient servant,