Enter Cleander.
Cle. What a sight were this,
To meet her father? This would make him mad
Indeed, and execute his rage himself.
Madam, your father's here!
Syl. Ha, Delia!
Cleander, is it thou? then I'm betray'd
The second time; but must thy fortune make thee
The instrument of my undoing still?
Cle. Shepherd, I will not honour thee so much
As to inquire thy name: thou hast done that
Thou wilt pay dear for, and I hope thy death
Will take away the blot of this disgrace
Th' hast laid upon the princess.
Thyr. If you do this,
You'll make me happy: it was this I look'd for,
My trivial acts of life this of my death
Will recompense with glory; I shall die
To save my princess, and what's more, to save
The life of her life, her unspotted honour.
Bless'd lady, though you are as innocent
And chaste as purest virgins that have yet
Seen nothing in a dream to warm their blood,
Yet the malicious world, the censuring people,
That haste to cast dirt on the fairest things,
Will hardly spare you, if it once be known
That we were here together. As for me,
My life is nothing but variety
Of grief and troubles, which with constancy
I have borne yet; 'tis time that now I die,
Before I do accuse the gods, that have
Brought me to this, and so pull on my death
A punishment. Will you be merciful,
And end me quickly?
Cle. Shepherd, know for this
Thy resolution, which in noble bloods
I scarce have found, I willingly would grant
What thou desir'st. But something must be known
Before that time either from you or you.
Syl. I know, Cleander, it is me you aim at:
I do confess, this shepherd is my love;
For his sake I did leave the court and thee,
Unworthy as thou art to be his rival.
Cle. Madam, my duty bids me speak to you,
Not as a lover now, but as you are
My princess and the daughter of my king.
I would not for the world have those desires
Which I had then; for, sure, my bolder love
Would have transgress'd the limits of all duty,
And would have dar'd to tell you that this shepherd
Was not a match for great Arcadia's heir,
Nor yet one fit for my competitor.
'Tis not his outward feature—which how fair
It is, I do not question—that can make him
Noble or wise; whereas my birth, deriv'd
From ancient kings, and years not far unsuiting
Those of your own—to these my education,
To you well known, perhaps might make me worthy
Of being your servant.
Syl. Can'st thou look on this,
This piece, Cleander, and not blush to boast
Thy follies thus, seeking to take away
From his full virtue? If but this one act
Of his appear unto the world, as now
It shall; for I'll not shame to publish him,
Though I die for it: will it not devour
Thy empty glories and thy puff'd-up nothings
And (like a grave) will bury all thy honours?
Do, take his life, and glory in that act;
But, be thou sure, in him thou shalt kill two.