CHAR. Well, we will think of this. Come, Daphnis, come, I see you love my daughter, and you only Shall have her; it is I that tell you so, That am her father. DAPH. Thank you, good Charinus; But I had rather she had told me so. [_Aside._ FOOTNOTES: [248] [Old copy, _the cure, he_.] ACTUS II., SCÆNA 1. THYRSIS, MONTANUS. _To them_ MIRTILLUS. [THYR.] This day the sun shot forth his beams as fair As e'er he did, and through the trembling air Cool Zephyrus with gentle murmuring Breath'd a new freshness on each tree and plant: My kids are gamesome too, as e'er they were; All show a face of gladness but myself. MON. And why not you as well by their example? THYR. Not in this life: here joy would be untimely: The gods reserve for me their comforts in Th' Elysian fields, or else they mock my sorrows. MON. O, say not so, they're just and pitiful. THYR. They are, but, father--so I still must call you-- When in the sadness of my soul I ask'd Before the altar of our great Apollo, What should become of me, or where my love, Bright Sylvia, was, whether alive or dead, Why should the oracle reply: _Go home_, _Thou shall enjoy thy Sylvia_? MON. What more could you Desire to hear? THYR. Ay, but when greedily I ask'd the time, the answer was, _That day_ _Thou art not Thyrsis, nor she Sylvia._ Then in this life I'm sure it must not be, For I was Thyrsis ever call'd, and she Known by no other name than Sylvia. MON. It may be, for your importunity You might deserve this answer, or else is it Because the gods speak not their mysteries To be conceiv'd by every vulgar sense? I now remember what Acrisius, The wise and virtuous Acrisius, Was wont to say. THYR. Why, what said he? Does it concern me aught? MON. It may do, son; He bid us fly all curiosity, Seeking to know what future time may bring To us, which only gods above do know; And if at any time they do impart This knowledge unto us, it is enwrapp'd In such a mist, as we shall ne'er see through it: Because, said he, we have enough to do With what is present; the celestial powers Would not cut off our hopes, nor multiply Our cares, by showing us our destiny. THYR. O, this discourse to a despairing lover What comfort does it bring? for heaven's sake, leave it And me; for I am best, I find, alone. Yet stay, there's something that I fain would ask you: You said this circle here about my neck Has so continued from my infancy, When first you took me up. MON. 'Tis true, that circle Hung loosely then about your neck, which since Is fill'd with it. I left it there, because I saw some letters that were wrought about it. THYR. And may they not be read?