But now one hour for love and fair Evanthe
Hence with ambition's cares

see, where reclin'd,

In slumbers all her sorrows are dismiss'd,
Sleep seems to heighten ev'ry beauteous feature,
And adds peculiar softness to each grace.

She weeps

- in dreams some lively sorrow pains her —
-oh! what a balmy sweetness!

I'll take one kiss
Give me another

and another still

For ever thus I'd dwell upon her lips.

Be still my heart, and calm unruly transports.—
Wake her, with music, from this mimic death.

SONG

Tell me, Phillis, tell me why,
You appear so wond'rous coy,
When that glow, and sparkling eye,
Speak you want to taste the joy?
Prithee give this fooling o'er,
Nor torment your lover more.

[Music sounds.]

While youth is warm within our veins,
And nature tempts us to be gay,
Give to pleasure loose the reins,
Love and youth fly swift away.
Youth in pleasure should be spent,
Age will come, we'll then repent.

Ha! am I here?

EVANTHE (waking) I come ye lovely shades
Still in the tyrant's palace? Ye bright pow'rs!
Are all my blessings then but vis'onary?
Methought I was arriv'd on that blest shore
Where happy souls for ever dwell, crown'd with
Immortal bliss; Arsaces led me through
The flow'ry groves, while all around me gleam'd
Thousand and thousand shades, who welcom'd me
With pleasing songs of joy - Vardanes, ha!

VARDANES. Why beams the angry lightning of thine eye

Against thy sighing slave? Is love a crime?
Oh! if to dote, with such excess of passion
As rises e'en to mad extravagance

Is criminal, I then am so, indeed.
EVANTHE. Away! vile man!
VARDANES.

With all the humblest offices of love,

If to pursue thee e'er

If ne'er to know one single thought that does

Not bear thy bright idea, merits scorn

EVANTHE. Hence from my sight - nor let me, thus, pollute Mine eyes, with looking on a wretch like thee,

Thou cause of all my ills; I sicken at

Thy loathsome presence

VARDANES.

"Tis not always thus,

Nor dost thou ever meet the sounds of love

With rage and fierce disdain: Arsaces, soon,

Could smooth thy brow, and melt thy icy breast.

EVANTHE. Ha! does it gall thee? Yes, he could, he could; Oh! when he speaks, such sweetness dwells upon

His accents, all my soul dissolves to love,

And warm desire; such truth and beauty join'd!

His looks are soft and kind, such gentleness
Such virtue swells his bosom! in his eye

Sits majesty, commanding ev'ry heart.

Strait as the pine, the pride of all the grove,

More blooming than the spring, and sweeter far,
Than asphodels or roses infant sweets.

Oh! I could dwell forever on his praise,

Yet think eternity was scarce enough

To tell the mighty theme; here in my breast
His image dwells, but one dear thought of him,
When fancy paints his Person to my eye,
As he was wont in tenderness dissolv'd,
Sighing his vows, or kneeling at my feet,
Wipes off all mem'ry of my wretchedness.
VARDANES. I know this brav'ry is affected, yet
It gives me joy, to think my rival only
Can in imagination taste thy beauties.

Let him, 'twill ease him in his solitude,
And gild the horrors of his prison-house,
Till death shall

EVANTHE.

Ha! what was that? till death

Ah, now I feel distress's tort'ring pang
Thou canst not villain darst not think his death

O mis'ry!

VARDANES. Naught but your kindness saves him,
Yet bless me, with your love, and he is safe;
But the same frown which kills my growing hopes,
Gives him to death.

- ye Gods!

JOHN WOOLMAN

[John Woolman, the Quaker, possessed a personal simplicity and a purity of heart that give great charm to his impractically idealistic writings. He was born in Northampton, N. J., in 1720, and passed his boyhood on a farm. During the greater part of his adult life he travelled among the Friends in different parts of America, speaking at their meetings, conversing with them personally, and working with especial vigor against slave-holding, which was then practised by some members of the society. On these trips he supported himself by working at his trade, that of a tailor, and sometimes by acting as a clerk or notary and drawing wills and other papers. In 1772 he went on a visit to the Quakers in England, and died of the smallpox in the city of York soon after his arrival. During his lifetime he published a few tracts, and his “Works" in two parts were issued in Philadelphia after his death. The most important of his writings is his "Journal," which has been many times reprinted. The selections here given are from the edition by J. G. Whittier, published in 1871.]

THE WEARING OF DYED GARMENTS
[From the "Journal"]

The use of hats and garments dyed with a dye hurtful to them, and wearing more clothes in summer than are useful, grew more uneasy to me, believing them to be customs which have not their foundation in pure wisdom. The apprehension of being singular from my beloved friends was a strait upon me, and thus I continued in the use of some things contrary to my judgment.

On the 31st of fifth month, 1761, I was taken ill of a fever, and after it had continued near a week I was in great distress of body. One day there was a cry raised in me that I might understand the cause of my affliction, and improve under it, and my conformity to some customs which I believed were not right was brought to my remembrance. In the continuance of this exercise I felt all the powers in me yield themselves up into the hands of Him who gave me being, and was made thankful that he had taken hold of me by his chastisements. Feeling the necessity of further purify

ing, there was now no desire in me for health until the design of my correction was answered. Thus I lay in abasement and brokenness of spirit, and as I felt a sinking down into a calm resignation, so I felt, as in an instant, an inward healing in my nature; and from that time forward I grew better.

Though my mind was thus settled in relation to hurtful dyes, I felt easy to wear my garments heretofore made, and continued to do so about nine months. Then I thought of getting a hat the natural color of the fur, but the apprehension of being looked upon as one affecting singularity felt uneasy to me. Here I had occasion to consider that things, though small in themselves, being clearly enjoined by Divine authority, become great things to us; and I trusted that the Lord would support me in the trials that might attend singularity, so long as singularity was only for his sake. On this account I was under close exercise of mind in the time of our General Spring Meeting, 1762, greatly desiring to be rightly directed; when, being deeply bowed in spirit before the Lord, I was made willing to submit to what I apprehended was required of me, and when I returned home got a hat of the natural color of the fur.

In attending meetings this singularity was a trial to me, and more especially at this time, as white hats were used by some who were fond of following the changeable modes of dress, and as some Friends who knew not from what motives I wore it grew shy of me, I felt my way for a time shut up in the exercise of the ministry. In this condition, my mind being turned toward my Heavenly Father with fervent cries that I might be preserved to walk before him in the meekness of wisdom, my heart was often tender in meetings, and I felt an inward consolation which to me was very precious under these difficulties.

I had several dyed garments fit for use which I believed it best to wear till I had occasion for new ones. Some Friends were apprehensive that my wearing such a hat savored of an affected singularity; those who spoke with me in a friendly way I generally informed, in a few words, that I believed my wearing it was not in my own will. I had at times been sensible that a superficial friendship had been dangerous to me; and many Friends being now uneasy with me, I had an inclination to acquaint some