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SCENE VI.
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SCENE VI.

Sylvia
alone.
What have I seen? It cannot sure be man;
Its looks would then betray its native fierceness.
Men all are stern and treacherous, and their aspect
Must bear some semblance of the wicked heart.
Nor is't a woman, for the garb it wears
Is fashion'd not like mine or my Constantia's.
Whate'er it be, it has a pleasing form:

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My sister shall resolve me—Ha! my feet
Refuse to move, O Heaven! why do I sigh?
What means my beating heart? Can it be fear?
No—were it fear I should not find this pleasure;
Far different is the passion which I feel,
This nameless something fluttering in my breast.
New joys I find and yet complain
Amidst a sweet and pleasing pain;
Those looks, alas! but vainly please;
What gives me pleasure gives not ease.
I run a thousand fancies o'er,
Delightful hopes unknown before!
And yet I know not whence I sigh,
Or what my distant hopes imply.

[Exit.