_Orl._ Orgalio, go see a sentinel be plac'd, And bid the soldiers keep a court-of-guard, So to hold watch till secret here alone I meditate upon the thoughts of love. _Org._ I will, my lord. [_Exit._ _Orl._ Fair queen of love, thou mistress of delight, Thou gladsome lamp that wait'st on Phœbe's train, Spreading thy kindness through the jarring orbs, That in their union praise thy lasting powers; Thou that hast stay'd the fiery Phlegon's course, And mad'st the coachman of the glorious wain To droop, in view of Daphne's excellence; Fair pride of morn, sweet beauty of the even,[151] Look on Orlando languishing in love. Sweet solitary groves, whereas the nymphs With pleasance laugh to see the satyrs play, Witness Orlando's faith unto his love. Tread she these lawnds, kind Flora, boast thy pride. Seek she for shade, spread, cedars, for her sake. Fair Flora, make her couch amidst thy flowers. Sweet crystal springs, Wash ye with roses when she longs to drink. Ah, thought, my heaven! ah, heaven, that knows my thought! Smile, joy in her that my content hath wrought. _Shep._ [_aside_]. The heaven of love is but a pleasant hell, Where none but foolish-wise imprison'd dwell. _Orl._ Orlando, what contrarious thoughts be these, That flock with doubtful motions in thy mind? Heaven smiles, and trees do boast their summer pride. What! Venus writes her triumphs here beside. _Shep._ [_aside_]. Yet when thine eye hath seen, thy heart shall rue The tragic chance that shortly shall ensue. _Orl._ [_reads_]. "_Angelica_":--ah, sweet and heavenly name, Life to my life, and essence to my joy! But, soft! this gordian knot together co-unites A Medor partner in her peerless love. Unkind, and will she bend her thoughts to change? Her name, her writing! Ah foolish and unkind! No name of hers, unless the brooks relent To hear her name, and Rhodanus vouchsafe To raise his moisten'd locks from out the reeds, And flow with calm alongst his turning bounds: No name of hers, unless the Zephyr blow Her dignities alongst Ardenia woods, Where all the world for wonders do await. And yet her name! for why Angelica; But, mix'd with Medor, not Angelica. Only by me was lov'd Angelica, Only for me must live Angelica. I find her drift: perhaps the modest pledge Of my content hath with a secret smile And sweet disguise restrain'd her fancy thus, Figuring Orlando under Medor's name; Fine drift, fair nymph! Orlando hopes no less. [_Spies the roundelays._ Yet more! are Muses masking in these trees, Framing their ditties in conceited lines, Making a goddess, in despite of me, That have no other but Angelica? _Shep._ [_aside_]. Poor hapless man, these thoughts contain thy hell!