Leontion. I will bring any.
Ternissa. My mother has a fine golden one. She will lend it me; she allows me everything.
Epicurus. Leontion and Ternissa, those eyes of yours brighten at inquiry, as if they carried a light within them for a guidance.
Leontion. No flattery!
Ternissa. No flattery! Come, teach us!
Epicurus. Will you hear me through in silence?
Leontion. We promise.
Epicurus. Sweet girls! the calm pleasures, such as I hope you will ever find in your walks among these gardens, will improve your beauty, animate your discourse, and correct the little that may hereafter rise up for correction in your dispositions. The smiling ideas left in our bosoms from our infancy, that many plants are the favourites of the gods, and that others were even the objects of their love—having once been invested with the human form, beautiful and lively and happy as yourselves—give them an interest beyond the vision; yes, and a station—let me say it—on the vestibule of our affections. Resign your ingenuous hearts to simple pleasures; and there is none in man, where men are Attic, that will not follow and outstrip their movements.
Ternissa. O Epicurus!
Epicurus. What said Ternissa?