Volume Ii Part 8 (2/2)

_Phil_. There's no good towards when you are whisp'ring.

_Ord_. The Musick you commanded, Sir, is ready.

SONG.

Nymph.

_Make haste_, Amintas, _come away, The Sun is up and will not stay; And oh how very short's a Lover's_ Day!

_Make haste_, Amintas, _to this Grove, Beneath whose Shade so oft I've sat, And heard my dear lay'd Swain repeat, How much he_ Galatea _lov'd; Whilst all the listening Birds around, Sung to the Musick of the blessed Sound.

_Make haste_, Amintas, _come away, The Sun is up and will not stay; And oh how very short's a Lover's Day_!

Swain enters, with Shepherds and Shepherdesses, and Pipes.

_I hear thy charming Voice, my Fair, And see, bright Nymph, thy Swain is here; Who his Devotions had much earlier paid, But that a Lamb of thine was stray'd; And I the little Wanderer have brought, That with one angry Look from thy fair Eyes, Thou may'st the little Fugitive chastise, Too great a Punishment for any Fault.

Come_, Galatea, _haste away, The Sun is up and will not stay, And oh how very short's a Lover's Day_! [Dance.

_King_. How likes _Florella_ this?

_Flor_. Sir, all Delight's so banish'd from my Soul, I've lost the Taste of every single Joy.

_Abd_. G.o.d's! this is fine! Give me your Art of Flattery, Or something more of this, will ruin me-- Tho I've resolv'd her Death, yet whilst she's mine, I would not have her blown by Summer Flies.

_Phil_. Mark how he snarls upon the King!

The Cur will bite anon.

_Abd_. Come, my _Florella_, is't not Bed-time, Love?

_Flor_. I'll wait upon you, Sir.

[Going out.

_Phil_. The Moor has ta'en away, we may depart.

_Abd_. What has he ta'en away?

[_Turns about_.

_Phil_. The fine gay play-thing, that made us all so merry.

_Abd_. Was this your Sport? [To his Wife.

_King_. _Abdelazer_, keep your way--Good night, fair Creature!

_Abd_. I will obey for once.

[_Ex_. Abd. _and_ Flor.

_King_. Why this Resentment, Brother, and in publick?

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