Ped. It much delighted me.
Rod. They talk of Fairies, and such demi-devils,
This is a fine place to dance their gambols.—
Ped. Me thought I heard a voyce. [Musick and Birds.
Rod. They can sing admirably,
They never lose their maiden-heads: I would fool any way
To make him merry now: methink yond rocks yonder
Shew like inchanted Cells, where they inhabit.
[Musick afar off. Pot Birds.
Ped. 'Tis here again, hark gentle Roderigo,
Hark, hark: O sweet, sweet, how the Birds record too!
Mark how it flies now every way. O love,
In such a harmony art thou begotten,
In such soft air, so gentle, lull'd and nourish'd,
O my best Mistris!
Rod. How he weeps! dear Heaven
Give him his hearts content, and me forgive too.
I must melt too.
Ped. The Birds sing louder, sweeter,
And every note they emulate one another.
Lie still and hear: These when they have done their labours,
Enter Alinda, and Juletta, like old Women.
Their pretty airs, fall to their rests, enjoy 'em.
Nothing rocks Love asleep, but death.