1.
Boy. Shall I, because my love is gone,
Accuse those golden darts,
Which to a blessed union
Struck our two loving hearts,
Since fortune, and not love, hath caus'd my moan?
2.
No, her pure image I shall prize,
Imprinted in my breast,
More than the fairest mistress' eyes,
That ever swain possessed,
Which in eternal bonds my fancy ties.
3.
Come then, you sharpest griefs, and try
If you can pierce my heart,
But use, if you would have me die,
The best you can of art,
To wound a breast so arm'd with constancy.
Thyr. Enough: I'll sigh the rest out. Go, my boy,
Be careful of thy tender lambs, whilst I
Seek out some hidden place to pine and die.
SCENA II.
Hylas, Mirtillus.
Believe, Mirtillus, never any love
Was bought with other price than love alone,
Since nothing is more precious than itself:
It being the purest abstract of that fire
Which wise Prometheus first indu'd us with;
And he must love that would be lov'd again.