Say, dear Almeda, why this pensive mood,
Which does thy wonted cheerfulness exclude?
ALMEDA.
The cause of this to Flavia I’ll reveal:
It is a youth whose power I can’t conceal.
’Tis Strephon, who long since obtain’d my heart,
When artful Cupid gave the killing dart.
When Strephon’s near, no anxious cares molest,
Nor access find to my enraptur’d breast;
But when he’s gone, his absence still I mourn,