Who gather all the Sweets of this fair Maid
Without the ceremonious Tie of Marriage;
That tie that does but nauseate the Delight,
Be far from happy Lovers; we’ll embrace
And unconfin’d and free as whispering Air,
That mingles wantonly with spreading Flowers.
Silv. What’s all this?
Mar. Silvio, the Victory’s won.
The Heart that nicely stood it out so long,
Now yields upon Conditions.