But if my name and character they tear,
And cruel malice too, too plain appear;
And, when I sorrow and affliction know,
They smile, and add unto my cup of woe;
Say, Echo, say, in such peculiar case,
Must I continue still to love and bless?
Echo.—Still love and bless!
Why, Echo, how is this? Thou’rt sure a dove:
Thy voice will leave me nothing else but love!
Echo.—Nothing else but love!