To see through the plains
The little lambs
Getting their woolen robes
Scratched by the wicked bushes;
To see the slumbering shepherdess,
Whilst with slow steps
The shepherd she prefers
Comes and startles her,—
That is the fete
Of an honest mind,
The true happiness
Of the heart!
Just so! That's what I generally say to everybody, to inspire confidence. But could you but know who I am; what infernal project I am brewing! Ha! here comes the tender Eurydicea; she must not believe I have been through the meadow.
Eu. Impossible to meet him! Ah! here he is. Aristee, my beautiful shepherd, take care; one step more and you are dead.
Eu. My husband knows all; he has spied us, and laid traps through the field for you.
Ar. Look how much I care about his snares. Look, please look. (Steps into the corn fields.)
Eu. You will die sure; then I will die with you.
Ar. (Aside.) Come on. (They walk through the field. Eurydicea stops suddenly on one foot, and screams.)
Ar. (Aside.) She is caught.
Eu. I am caught.
Ar. Graver than you imagine. (Music.)
Eu. Ah! my lord, what do I feel?
Ar. Pluto, be thyself again! One, two, three, (throws off the shepherd's costume and appears as god of the infernal regions,) and now let us disorganize the elements, (a sign thunderbolt. Night ensues suddenly—a tempest.) At home that is the way elements are disorganized.
Eu. Mighty gods—am I going to die?
Ar. Entirely—lasciate ogni speranza—(strident laugh.)
Eu. And nevertheless I suffer not a bit . . . .
Ar. I will explain why . . . .
Eu. Ah! it is strange . . . .
Ar. It is logic . . . .