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Strephon, Daphne.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


24

Strephon, Daphne.

S.
Come my Daphne, come away,
We do waste the Crystal day;
'Tis Strephon calls.

Da.
What would my love?

S.
Come follow to the Mirtle grove;
Where Venus shall prepare
New chaplets for thy hair.

D.
Were I shut up within a tree,
Ide rend my bark to follow thee.

S,
My shepherdesse, make haste,
The minutes slide too fast:

D.
In those cooler shades will I
Blind, as Cupid, kisse thine eye.

S.
In thy perfumed bosome then Aestray,
In such warm snow who would not lose his way?

Chor.
Wee'l laugh and leave this world behind,
And gods themselves that see,
Shall envie thee, and me:
But never find
Such joyes, when they embrace a Deity.