Why see how coldly Zeolide receives

His songs of love—his bursts of metaphor:

“I love you, Philamir,” and there’s an end.

She will vouchsafe her spouse-elect no more—

No tenderness—no reciprocity;

A cold, half-sullen and half-wayward smile,

And that is all. The maiden lavishes

More love upon her horse!

Phan.Perhaps she thinks

Her horse will bear such tokens of regard