Mir. No, I love her
As I do others, with whom I compare her.
But you, that love with such intemperance,
Make of your love a glass, wherein you see
Each thing much greater than indeed it is:
My love's too cold, you say; but I am sure
Yours is too hot for any to endure:
A mean, perhaps, 'twixt these I might approve.
Hyl. You might, if there were any mean in love.
Mir. But whilst we talk thus, see, the flame has caught you;
Your beauteous flame, Nerina, is at hand,
Dorinda with her: dare you stay th' encounter?
Hyl. No, let's withdraw, and watch her, where she goes.
SCENA III.
Nerina, Dorinda.
Dorinda, I have miss'd the chase to-day,
Such is my chance, and he that lodg'd the deer
Told me it was the fairest in these woods.
Dor. The gods do love you, sure, that thus have left
Your thoughts so free for sport; mine are not so.
Ner. Thou art in love, I warrant, art thou not?
Dor. That angry god pursues me in his fury,
And forces me to love where I am scorn'd.
Hapless Dorinda, why should he despise thee?
Many a swain and many a rural god
Have sought thy favours, and have sought in vain:
Now thou art justly punish'd with disdain.