HYL. She lives! give me some more of that---- That water there, see now she comes again! O gentle Destinies, but spare this thread, And cut a thousand coarser! Speak, Nerina; Give me some comfort, give thy father some, Or else behold three lives fall in thy death. NER. Ye Fates, that keep th' account of all our days, Add but one minute to my life, that I May quit my soul of those two heavy burthens, Which now oppress it: dry your eyes, good father, Remember that the gods do send us nothing But for our good; and if my journey be Shorter than yours, the less will be my trouble. Will you forgive me, father, that I have not Paid so much duty to you as I ow'd you? Take my good-will, I pray, instead of it. CHAR. See her good nature. Ay, child, 'tis enough, Thou always wert obedient. NER. Shall I dare To speak my thoughts, and so discharge my soul Of one load yet? CHAR. Ay, do, my child; speak freely. NER. I've heard you say that no sin was so heavy As is ingratitude. CHAR. Tis true, Nerina. How she remembers what her father said! NER. Then be not angry, if I now must tell you, That this poor shepherd, whose swoll'n eyes you see Cover'd with tears, for many years now pass'd Has courted me: but still with such a love, So full of truth and gentle services, That should I not requite him with my love, I should be guilty of ingratitude. Therefore, before I die, I pray give leave That he may have my dying heart, which living I still debarr'd him of. Hylas, thy hand! O, stay a little, death: here, take thou mine, And since I cannot live the wife of Hylas, Yet let me die so. Sir, are you content? CHAR. I am with anything that pleaseth thee. NER. Tell me, are you so, Hylas? HYL. O my love, Ask me if I would live amongst the gods, But ask not this. Sir, have we your consent? CHAR. You have: it is in vain now to deny it. You see, Dorinda, what her vow's come to! NER. Then let me die, take me into thy arms, Sweet love, you'll see my coffin strew'd with flowers, And you, Dorinda, will you make a garland? I die a virgin, though I die his wife. DOR. Alas, she's gone! HYL. She's dead, and do I live? CHAR. Look to the shepherd there! O my Nerina! DOR. Vex not her soul, I pray, with often calling; You see she's dead. CHAR. Then there is no hope left: Pray help us, shepherds, now to bear her hence; You'll come, I hope, to see her in her grave. [_Exeunt._ ACTUS IV., SCENA I. THYRSIS, DELIA.