University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

Lys.
sings.

Lucid.
Faire object of my flames, and my misfortune,
May this day prove more blest to Thee than Me!

Lys.
In vain thy flame, troublesome Sheepherdess,
Doth claime a compliment, not meant to thee.

Lucid.
When wilt thou cease, thus to make War upon me?
And lay aside these scornes that break my heart?

Lys.
When Elmes shall the embrace of Ivy flie,
And rav'nous Wolves with Lambs live peacefully.

Lucid.
Though thy severity doth still encrease,
Ile be the same that ever I profest.

Lys.
Ixion heretofore embrac'd a Cloud,
And so Lucida may embrace the Wind.

Lucid.
The raging Seas at last will leave their fury,
So may thy hatred have a time to cease.

Lys.
As Rocks unshaken stand against those billows,
So is my heart unmoved by thy love.

Lucid.
For Pan's sake, Sheepherd, and the Hamadriads,
Refuse me not a civil entertainment.

Lys.
If they the maladies of Love can cure,
Th'hadst best go offer up thy vowes to them.

Lucid.
'Mong Scythians fierce, at thy Nativity,
Thy heart was fill'd with Ice, nothing can thaw it.

Lys.
Derive me (if thou wilt) from Caucasus,
So thou no more disturb me with thy Love.

Lucid.
May thy best Sheep be left a prey to Wolves.
If thus to rigour thou expose my Soule!

Lys.
I'l suffer them to come within my folds,
When thou shalt have possession of my heart.

Lucid.
Thou Tyger, nurst up by a Tygress fierce,
Thy proud disdaine will open me my grave.

Lis.
So farre am I from a designe to kill thee,
I never had a thought to touch thy skin.

Lucid.
Thou dost distract my soule, and thy sharp talons,
Soon as I see thee, teare it into pieces.

Lys.
I know not how to patch up a torn soule,
And, prithee, what should I do with the pieces?

Lucid.
You may cement them but with one sweet word,
And from an Hell of woes raise me to Heaven.

Lys.
If such a thing as that can cure thy folly,
Of Honey, or of Sugar take thy choice.

Lucid.
Grant either of them to my constancy,
Of Hope the Sugar, of thy Faith the Honey.

Ly.
If thy fond constancy do Hony need,
Farewell—you must seek other Bees than Me.

Lucid.
Stay thou bright Torch of my too am'rous life,
Suffer my flames at least to live in hope.

Ly.
Thy life's in danger to be wondrous dark,
If I'm the Torch that must enlighten it.

Lucid.
If for thy high deserts, that name's too low,
Be thou Apollo, and vouchsafe to cure me.

Ly.
Thanks to thee (Sylvia) I must be gone;
If I'm the Sun I must be ever running.