Am. I fair? I thank ye:
Mine's but shadow when your Sun shines by me.
Ism. No more of this, you know your worth (Aminta)
Where are we now?
Am. Hard by the Town (Ismena).
Ter. Close by the Gates.
Ism. 'Tis a fine Ayr.
Lis. A delicate;
The way so sweet and even, that the Coach
Would be a tumbling trouble to our pleasures:
Methinks I am very merry:
Ism. I am sad:
Am. You are ever so when we entreat ye (Cosen)
Ism. I have no reason: such a trembling here
Over my heart methinks:
Am. Sure you are fasting;
Or not slept well to night; some dream (Ismena?)