Here I am come unto a place where grief, They say, has no abode. In princes' courts, I've heard there is no room for love's laments: For either they enjoy or else forget. Thrice-happy men, to whom love gives such leave! It may be that this place or people may Work so with me, and melt this frozen heart: Ah fool! that can'st believe the change of place Or air can change thy mind; the love thou bear'st Is woven so within thy thoughts, that as Out of this piece thy Sylvia wrought for thee, Thou can'st not take her name forth, but withal Thou must deface the whole: so, Thyrsis, think The wind that here may rise, or heat or rain, Thou may'st avoid, thy love will still remain; And when thou diest, then may it die with thee; Till then resolve to endure thy misery. _Enter_ DELIA. DEL. This is the garden which I saw him go to, And that is he; for all the marks she gave me To know him by he bears. THYR. A heaviness Weighs down my head, and would invite me to Repose myself; I'll take the offer; here I'll rest awhile, for I have need of it. DEL. How if I be deceived, and this should prove Another man! What then? I can excuse it. He's laid already, and (I fear) asleep; I'll stay until he wake; but then suppose That anybody come, and take me here, What will they think of me? Best wake him. Shepherd! It is a handsome youth: see what a grace Shows itself in his feature--such a face Might take the heart of any lady living, Ay, though she were a princess. Shepherd! what, Not yet? his sleeps are sound. THYR. Ah Sylvia, [_Speaks in his sleep._ Preserve thy life! O, let me die. Alas! I do but dream. Methought I saw myself Condemn'd to die, and Sylvia, to save me, Offer'd herself, and would needs die for me. 'Twas a sweet shadow: let me court this dream. DEL. He must not sleep again: shepherd, look up. THYR. Who envies me this small repose? Indeed I do not often sleep: ha, who are you? DEL. Sent to thee from thy Sylvia. Shepherd, rise, And follow me. THYR. Do I dream still! What are you? Came you from heaven, where my Sylvia is, And must I thither? whosoe'er you are, An angel or a fiend, in such a name You come, as I'm conjur'd to follow you: But I must die first. Here is to be with thee. [_Offers to stab himself._ DEL. Stay, hold thy hand: she lives--thy Sylvia lives To make thee happy, if thou wilt go to her. THYR. You're habited like those I've seen at court; And courtesy, they say, is ever there, Yet mingled with deceit. If you do mean T' abuse me for your sport, this way will prove Too sad to raise mirth out of. There's no ill That I have done to you or any else, Unless my constancy be here a sin.