Mir. Well, what will you infer on this?
Thyr. That you,
Who know no end at all of wild desire,
Must in your wand'ring fancy see this way
Leads unto madness, when too late you find
That nothing satisfies a boundless mind.
Mir. Ay, but I do confine myself to two
Or three at most; in this variety
I please myself; for what is wanting in
One, I may find it in another.
Thyr. No.
Not in another; one is the only centre
The line of love is drawn to, must have all
Perfections in her, all that's good and fair,
Or else her lover must believe her so.
Mir. Ay, there's your error, that's the ground of all
Your tears and sighs, your fruitless hopes and fears,
When she perhaps has not so much t' adorn her
As the least grace your thoughts bestow upon her.
Thyr. Well, be it so; and yet this fair idea,
Which I have fram'd unto myself, does argue
Virtue in me; so that, if she be lost,
Or dead—ah me! the sad remembrance of
My Sylvia causes this—yet I must love,
Because the character is indelibly
Writ in my heart, and heaven is witness to it.
Mir. Well, I'll no more of this, I'll be converted
Rather than call this grief to your remembrance.
Thyr. Why, dost thou think I ever shall forget her?
Or that where'er I set my careful foot,
As in this place, will it not tell me that
Here Sylvia and I walk'd hand in hand,
And here she pluck'd a flower, and anon
She gave it me; and then we kiss'd, and here
We mutually did vow each other's love?
Mir. Nay leave, good Thyrsis: I did come to tell you
This holiday our royal Prince Euarchus,
Being remov'd to his house here near adjoining,
Sent to command us to attend his person,
With all our sports and wonted merriment,
Wherein you always bore the chiefest part.
And I have heard ('tis not to make you blush)
The princess has commended your rare art
And handsome graces, which you gave your music.
Come, you must go with us, for Hylas is
So far engag'd in love, and near his hopes,
He will not stir unless his mistress go.
Thyr. Alas, Mirtillus! I have broke my pipe,
My sighs are all the music which I now
Can make, and how unfit I am t' attend
So great an expectation, you may see.
Yet give me leave to think on it; at night
Perhaps I'll go with you.