Flor. sings.
Ah, Choridon, in vain you boast,
You still do Cloris Love;
For better ’tis your heart were lost,
Then thus suspitious prove:
You then would kill me by disdain,
But dying thus you blot my Name.
For all will say
Cloris was false, and went astray;
Cloris was false, and did deserve her shame.
2.
For happy shepherd, well you know,
Your Fame does mine excell;