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SONG III.


Sylvia. LEAVE me, simple shepherd, leave me;
 Drag no more a hopeless chain:
I cannot like, nor would deceive thee;
 Love the maid that loves again.

Corin. Tho' more gentle nymphs surround me,
 Kindly pitying what I feel,
Only you have power to wound me;
Sylvia, only you can heal.

Sylvia. Corin, cease this idle teazing;
 Love that's forc'd is harsh and sour:
If the lover be displeasing,
 To persist disgusts the more.

Corin. 'Tis in vain, in vain to fly me,
Sylvia, I will still pursue;
Twenty thousand times deny me,
 I will kneel and weep anew.

Sylvia. Cupid ne'er shall make me languish,
 I was born averse to love;
Lovers' sighs, and tears, and anguish,
 Mirth and pastime to me prove.

Corin. Still I vow with patient duty
 Thus to meet your proudest scorn;
You for unrelenting beauty,
 I for constant love was born.

But the fates had not consented,
 Since they both did fickle prove;
Of her scorn the maid repented,
 And the shepherd—of his love.