._ It is, and I am prepared for all the Resistance she can make,
and am resolv'd to satisfy my insupportable Flame, since there's no
other hope left me.

_Fran._ She's coming, Sir, retire.
[Exit _Silvio_ into the Garden.
Oh, how he kills me! Well, at least this pleasure I have whilst I am
dying, that when he possesses the fair _Cleonte_, he for ever ruins his
Interest in her Heart, and must find nothing but her mortal Hate and
Scorn.

Enter _Cleonte_.

_Cleo._ _Francisca_, why art thou so earnest for my coming into the
Garden so early?

_Fran._ Because, Madam, here without Interruption you may learn what the
Lady _Clarinda_ has to tell you.

_Cleo._ Is that all? go wait upon her hither then.

_Fran._ Yes, when your more pleasant Affair is dispatch'd, I will--
[Aside._
[_Exit _Francisca_.

_Cleo._ Can this be Love I feel?
This strange unusual something in my Soul,
That pleads so movingly for _Silvio_ there;
And makes me wish him not allied to me?

[A noise of rural Musick is heard within the Trees, as Pipes,
Flutes, and Voices.

Hah! what pleasant Noise is this? sure 'tis i' the Air-- Bless me, what
strange things be these!

Enter Swains playing upon Pipes, after them four Shepherds with
Garlands and Flowers, and four Nymphs dancing an amorous Dance to
that Musick; wherein the Shepherds make Love to the Nymphs, and put
the Garlands on their Heads, and go out; the Nymphs come and lay
them at _Cleonte's_ Feet, and sing.

1 Nymph. _Here at your Feet, we tribute pay,
Of all the Glories of the May._

2 Nymph. _Such Trophies can be only due
To Victors so divine as you,_

Both. _Come, follow, follow, where Love leads the way,
To Pleasures that admit of no Delay._

1 Nymph. _Come follow to the amorous Shade,
Covered with Roses, and with Jessamine._

2 Nymph. _Where the Love-sick Boy is laid,
Panting for Love's charming Queen._

Both. _Come follow, follow, where we lead the way,
To Pleasures that admit of no delay._ [Lead her out.

_The Scene changes to a fine Arbour, they leave her and vanish._

_Cleo._ I am all Wonder.

Enter _Silvio_ in rapture, not yet seeing _Cleonte_.

_Silv._ I'm all on Fire, till I enjoy my Sister;
Not all the Laws of Birth and Nature
Can hinder me from loving-- Nor is't just:
Why should the charm of fair _Cleonte's_ Eyes,
Me less than Aliens to her Blood surprize?
And why (