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ORCERES.

And who considers hours, whose heart is bent

On what concerns a lover and a friend?
Where is thy daughter?

SULPICIUS.

Within yon flowery thicket, blythe and careless;

For tho' she loves, 'tis with sweet, maiden fancy,
Which, not impatient, looks in cheering hope
To future years.

ORCERES.

Ay, 'tis a sheltered passion,

A cradled love, by admiration foster'd:
A showy, toward nurse for babe so bashful.
Thus in the shell athwart whose snowy lining
Each changeful tint of the bright rainbow plays,
A little pearl is found in secret value
Surpassing all the rest.

SULPICIUS.

But sayest thou nothing

Of what I wish to hear? What of Cordenius?

ORCERES.

By my good war-bow and its barbed shafts!

By the best war-horse archer e'er bestrode!
I'm still in ignorance; I have not seen him.

SULPICIUS.

Thou hast not seen him! this is very strange.