Hyl. Ah! then I do not wonder
I cannot die, when my best soul comes to me:
Shall we live ever thus?
Ner. How fain I would
For thy sake, Hylas; but it cannot be:
I feel a heavy sleep sit on my head,
And my strength fails me; help me, sweet Dorinda,
Farewell for ever! O, I die, I die!
Hyl. And must I then be call'd to life again,
To see my life expire before my face?
You Fates, if you will take a ransom for her,
Then take my life: but you are sure of that,
You'll say, already; for in her one death
Two lives are forfeit. Nerina, gentle nymph,
The cause why now I live, open these eyes
Once more, and I shall flourish like those plants
The sun gives life to: else I fall and wither,
Leaving behind nought but a worthless stem.
Speak to thy Hylas, sweet Nerina, speak.
Char. Ah me! my daughter, hadst thou liv'd, perhaps
I might have seen thee married to Daphnis,
Now we must see thee buried. Ah me!
Ner. Hylas!
Hyl. She lives! give me some more of that——
That water there, see now she comes again!
O gentle Destinies, but spare this thread,
And cut a thousand coarser! Speak, Nerina;
Give me some comfort, give thy father some,
Or else behold three lives fall in thy death.
Ner. Ye Fates, that keep th' account of all our days,
Add but one minute to my life, that I
May quit my soul of those two heavy burthens,
Which now oppress it: dry your eyes, good father,
Remember that the gods do send us nothing
But for our good; and if my journey be
Shorter than yours, the less will be my trouble.
Will you forgive me, father, that I have not
Paid so much duty to you as I ow'd you?
Take my good-will, I pray, instead of it.
Char. See her good nature. Ay, child, 'tis enough,
Thou always wert obedient.
Ner. Shall I dare
To speak my thoughts, and so discharge my soul
Of one load yet?
Char. Ay, do, my child; speak freely.