“O Pan! O Pan! I’m fainting! Take away that hand of thine!”
“Darling, look up! Don’t tremble so! Why fear your Lycidas?”
“Oh, Daphnis! I shall spoil my robe; it’s filthy on this grass.”
“But—just see here!—the softest fleece over your robe I’ve thrown.”
“Ah me! Oh! Don’t undo my belt! Why do you loose my zone?”
“Because the Paphian Queen must have it for an offering.”
“Some one will come! I hear a noise! Leave off, you cruel thing!”
“A noise? My cypresses: they murmur how my darling weds.”
“Oh, I am bare! You’ve torn my robe into a string of shreds!”
“A better robe I’ll give you soon; a larger robe I’ll buy.”