THYR. It shall afford no shade to anything, That hither us'd to come for its relief; But henceforth be for ever infamous: That, when some gentle shepherd passes by, And sees this ground rent with the crooked plough: Here, he may say, here 'twas that Sylvia Was lost, and then shall turn another way. MON. Good Thyrsis, do not make so much of grief, Y' have fed it with too many tears already; Take comfort now. THYR. What has my present state To do with comfort? If you see the trees Widow'd of leaves, the earth grown hard, and spoil'd Of the green mantles which she wont to wear, You wonder not if winter then appear. MON. By these we know that season. THYR. And must I, When she is gone, whose sun-like eyes did cherish An everlasting summer in my life, Feel any spring of joy to comfort me? No, father, grief with me is best in season. MON. But whilst you mourn thus, who looks to your flock? THYR. All as the shepherd is, such be his flocks, So pine and languish they, as in despair He pines and languishes; their fleecy locks Let hang disorder'd, as their master's hair, Since she is gone that deck'd both him and them. And now what beauty can there be to live, When she is lost that did all beauty give? MON. But yet, methinks, for one that is a stranger, Scarce known to any here, but by her name, These plaints are overmuch. Besides, there are In fruitful Arcady as fair as she: I'm sure more rich and wise: make out of them A choice. Nerina is as fair as she, Dorinda's flocks are more than Sylvia's, And carry on their backs more wool than hers. THYR. Let such base peasants as the gods do hate Admire their wealth and them for what they have, Their bodies' and their souls material Alike of drossy substance are compounded, And can contemplate nothing but the earth. No, Sylvia, whom some better god, perhaps For the reward of my well-tuned pipe, Sent down to me, made up of air and fire; Though since, because I knew not how to use With fair respect a gift so great as she, Has justly reft her from me,--is so much, So great a part of me, that in her absence Amidst my grief I feel some little joy, To see how much of me each minute wasteth, And gives me hope, that when I shall dissolve This earthly substance, and be pure as she (For sure the gods have ta'en her undefil'd), I may enjoy her looks, and though it be Profane to touch a hallowed thing like her, I may adore her yet, and recompense With my religion the proud thoughts I had Once to enjoy her. MON. See how fond you are T'embrace a shadow, and to leave the substance! The love of Hylas to Nerina has More hopes than yours; though she be young and coy, Yet whilst Nerina is and Hylas too, One time or other they may both have joy.