Ner. I've heard you say that no sin was so heavy
As is ingratitude.
Char. Tis true, Nerina.
How she remembers what her father said!
Ner. Then be not angry, if I now must tell you,
That this poor shepherd, whose swoll'n eyes you see
Cover'd with tears, for many years now pass'd
Has courted me: but still with such a love,
So full of truth and gentle services,
That should I not requite him with my love,
I should be guilty of ingratitude.
Therefore, before I die, I pray give leave
That he may have my dying heart, which living
I still debarr'd him of. Hylas, thy hand!
O, stay a little, death: here, take thou mine,
And since I cannot live the wife of Hylas,
Yet let me die so. Sir, are you content?
Char. I am with anything that pleaseth thee.
Ner. Tell me, are you so, Hylas?
Hyl. O my love,
Ask me if I would live amongst the gods,
But ask not this. Sir, have we your consent?
Char. You have: it is in vain now to deny it.
You see, Dorinda, what her vow's come to!
Ner. Then let me die, take me into thy arms,
Sweet love, you'll see my coffin strew'd with flowers,
And you, Dorinda, will you make a garland?
I die a virgin, though I die his wife.
Dor. Alas, she's gone!
Hyl. She's dead, and do I live?