BREMO.
Why, then, dost thou repine at me?
If thou wilt love me, thou shalt be my queen,
I will crown thee with a chaplet made of ivy,
And make the rose and lily wait on thee.
I’ll rend the burly branches from the oak,
To shadow thee from burning sun.
The trees shall spread themselves where thou dost go,
And as they spread, I’ll trace along with thee.
AMADINE.
[Aside.] You may, for who but you?
BREMO.
Thou shalt be fed with quails and partridges,
With blackbirds, thrushes, larks and nightingales.
Thy drink shall be goats’ milk and crystal water,
Distill’d from th’ fountains and the clearest springs,
And all the dainties that the woods afford.
I’ll freely give thee to obtain thy love.
AMADINE.
[Aside.] You may, for who but you?
BREMO.
The day I’ll spend to recreate my love
With all the pleasures that I can devise,
And in the night I’ll be thy bed-fellow,
And lovingly embrace thee in mine arms.
AMADINE.
[Aside.] One may, so may not you.
BREMO.
The satyrs and the wood-nymphs shall attend
On thee and lull thee ’sleep with music’s sound,
And in the morning, when thou dost awake,
The lark shall sing good morrow to my queen,
And whilst he sings, I’ll kiss my Amadine.
AMADINE.
[Aside.] You may, for who but you?
BREMO.
When thou art up, the wood-lanes shall be strew’d
With violets, cowslips, and sweet marigolds,
For thee to trample and to tread upon;
And I will teach thee how to kill the deer,
To chase the hart, and how to rouse the roe,
If thou wilt live to love and honour me.
AMADINE.
[Aside.] You may, for who but you?