Chrysanthus.
I do not know: for in one way
They so with equal gifts are graced,
So musical and fair and wise,
That while one captivates the mind,
One works her witcheries with the wind,
And one, the fairest, charms our eyes.
The one who sings, it seems a duty,
Trusting her sweet voice, to think sweet,
The one who reads, to deem discreet,
The third, we judge but by her beauty:
And so I fear by act or word
To wrong the three by judging ill,
Of one her charms, of one her skill,
And the intelligence of the third.
For to choose one does wrong to two,
But if I so presumed to dare . . .
Claudius.
Which would it be?
Chrysanthus.
The one that 's fair.
Escarpin.
My blessings on your choice and you!
That 's my opinion in the case,
'T is plain at least to my discerning
That in a woman wit and learning
Are nothing to a pretty face.
Nisida.
Chloris, quick, take up the lyre,
For a rustling noise I hear
In this shady thicket near:
Yes, I 'm right, I must retire.
Swift as feet can fly I 'll go.
For these men that here have strayed
Must have heard me while I played. [Exeunt Nisida and Chloris.
Cynthia.
One of them I think I know.
Yes, 't is Claudius, as I thought,
Now he has a chance: I 'll see
If he cares to follow me,
Guessing rightly what has brought
Me to-day unto the grove:—
Ah! if love to grief is leading
Of what use to me is reading
In the Remedies of Love? [Exit.
Daria (to herself).
In these bowers by trees o'ergrown,
Here contented I remain,
All companionship is vain,
Save my own sweet thoughts alone:—
Claudius.
Dear Chrysanthus, your election
Was to me both loss and gain,
Gave me pleasure, gave me pain:—
It seemed plain to my affection
(Being in love) your choice should fall
On the maid of pensive look,
Not on her who read the book:
But your praise made up for all.
And since each has equal force,
My complaint and gratulation,
Whilst with trembling expectation
I pursue my own love's course,
Try your fortune too, till we
Meet again. [Exit.