SONG.

        I.

  Whilst Alexis lay prest
    In her arms he loved best,
  With his hands round her neck,
    And his head on her breast,
  He found the fierce pleasure too hasty to stay,
  And his soul in the tempest just flying away.

        II.

When Caelia saw this, With a sigh and a kiss, She cried,—­O, my dear, I am robbed of my bliss!  ’Tis unkind to your love, and unfaithfully done, To leave me behind you, and die all alone.

        III.

The youth, though in haste, And breathing his last, In pity died slowly, while she died more fast; Till at length she cried,—­Now, my dear, now let us go; Now die, my Alexis, and I will die too!

        IV.

Thus entranced they did lie, Till Alexis did try To recover new breath, that again he might die:  Then often they died; but the more they did so, The nymph died more quick, and the shepherd more slow.

  Another Dance.  After it, ARGALEON re-enters, and stands by the
  Princess.

Palm. Leonidas, what means this quick return? [To ARGA.

Arga. O heaven! ’tis what I feared.

Palm. Is aught of moment happened since you went?

Arga. No, madam; but I understood not fully Your last commands.

Palm. And yet you answered to them. 
Retire; you are too indiscreet a lover: 
I’ll meet you where I promised. [Exit.

Arga. O my curst fortune! what have I discovered!  But I will be revenged. [Whispers to the King.

Poly. But are you certain you are not deceived?

Arga. Upon my life.

Poly. Her honour is concerned. 
Somewhat I’ll do; but I am yet distracted,
And know not where to fix.  I wished a child,
And heaven, in anger, granted my request. 
So blind we are, our wishes are so vain,
That what we most desire, proves most our pain. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

  An Eating-house.  Bottles of Wine on the table. PALAMEDE, and
  DORALICE, in Man’s Habit.

Dor. [Aside.] Now cannot I find in my heart to discover myself, though I long he should know me.

Pala. I tell thee, boy, now I have seen thee safe, I must be gone:  I have no leisure to throw away on thy raw conversation; I am a person that understands better things, I.

Dor. Were I a woman, oh how you would admire me! cry up every word I said, and screw your face into a submissive smile; as I have seen a dull gallant act wit, and counterfeit pleasantness, when he whispers to a great person in a play-house; smile, and look briskly, when the other answers, as if something of extraordinary had past betwixt them, when, heaven knows, there was nothing else but,—­What a clock does your lordship think it is?  And my lord’s repartee is,—­It is almost park-time:  or, at most,—­Shall we out of the pit, and go behind the scenes for an act or two—­And yet such fine things as these would be wit in a mistress’s mouth.