CLE. Sir, I did well remember What I had heard of th' oracle and you, Which, with the computation of his years, I found agreeing to make up a truth; Which you before assur'd me. Then I ask'd him Whether he would be married to the princess Before he died; he thought that I had mock'd him, And said I practis'd tyranny upon him. Then went I to my sister, and desir'd The same of her. In fine, I saw them both Join hands and hearts together; but the prince Thought this a dream of life, which certain death Would wake him from, until I did assure him Of his great state, and that his love, whom now He thought to be the princess, was my sister; All which I did refer unto your knowledge. EUB. This day for ever let it holy be, And you, whom love has brought through deep despair Unto the haven of your happiness, Enjoy each other freely. Of you, brave shepherd, But now my prince, I shall inquire anon Where and with whom you liv'd. THYR. Sir, the shepherd Whom I call father stays without. Montanus His name is, by whose gentle hands (as he Has often told me) I was rescu'd first From cold and death, since under his kind roof Foster'd, and bred as his. EUB. Go, call him in. _Enter_ MONTANUS, MIRTILLUS. You're welcome both; you may applaud your fortune That brought you such a shepherd. Stay all here, Whilst I go to the king. This day will add More years unto his life, when he shall say, No day shone brighter on Arcadia. [_Exit._ MON. We are both come to do our duties to you, I as being sent for, and Mirtillus with me, To celebrate your joys. Within a while, The shepherds and the nymphs will all be here. THYR. My old companions shall be welcome all, As you are now; I never shall forget Your courtesy nor theirs. SYL. Nor I the nymphs', Once my dear fellows; but you, Mirtillus, Though you did scorn to love, yet could you sing Well, if you listed of it. CLE. Can shepherds then Despise that deity which we adore? MIR. Madam, I reverence it in you, The perfect'st pattern of a constant lover, And in the honour of your nuptials I have a song, which if your grace will hear, 'Twill entertain the time. SYL. Let it be sung. _Song._ _Hymen, god of marriage-bed,_ _Be thou ever honoured:_ _Thou, whose torch's purer light_ _Death's sad tapers did affright,_ _And instead of funeral fires_ _Kindled lovers' chaste desires:_ _May their love_ _Ever prove_ _True and constant; let not age_ _Know their youthful heat t' assuage._ _2._