BER. Ah! all right! I am glad to see that you have a little strength still left, and that my visit does you good. Well, well, we will talk of business by-and-by. I have brought you an entertainment, which will dissipate your melancholy, and will dispose you better for what we have to talk about. They are gipsies dressed in Moorish clothes. They perform some dances mixed with songs, which, I am sure, you will like, and which will be as good as a prescription from Mr. Purgon. Come along. SECOND INTERLUDE. MEN _and_ WOMEN (_dressed as Moors_). FIRST MOORISH WOMAN. When blooms the spring of life, The golden harvest reap. Waste not your years in bootless strife, Till age upon your bodies creep. But now, when shines the kindly light, Give up your soul to love’s delight. No touch of sweetest joy This longing heart can know, No bliss without alloy When love does silent show. Then up, ye lads and lasses gay! The spring of life is fair; Cloud not these hours with care, For love must win the day. Beauty fades, Years roll by, Lowering shades Obscure the sky. And joys so sweet of yore Shall charm us then no more. Then up, ye lads and lasses gay! The spring of life is fair; Cloud not these hours with care, For love must win the day. _First Entry of the_ BALLET. 2ND MOORISH WOMAN. They bid us love, they bid us woo, Why seek delay? To tender sighs and kisses too In youth’s fair day, Our hearts are but too true. The sweetest charms has Cupid’s spell. No sooner felt, the ready heart His conquered self would yield him well Ere yet the god had winged his dart. But yet the tale we often hear Of tears and sorrows keen, To share in them, I ween, Though sweet, would make us fear! 3RD MOORISH WOMAN. To love a lover true, In youth’s kind day, I trow, Is pleasant task enow; But think how we must rue If he inconstant show! 4TH MOORISH WOMAN. The loss of lover false to me But trifling grief would be, Yet this is far the keenest smart That he had stol’n away our heart. 2ND MOORISH WOMAN. What then shall we do Whose hearts are so young? 4TH MOORISH WOMAN. Though cruel his laws, Attended by woes, Away with your arms, Submit to his charms! TOGETHER. His whims ye must follow, His transports though fleet, His pinings too sweet Though often comes sorrow, The thousand delights The wounds of his darts Still charm all the hearts. * * * * * ACT III. SCENE I.—BÉRALDE, ARGAN, TOINETTE. BER. Well, brother, what do you say to that? Isn’t it as good as a dose of cassia? TOI. Oh! good cassia is a very good thing, Sir. BER. Now, shall we have a little chat together. ARG. Wait a moment, brother, I’ll be back directly. TOI. Here, Sir; you forget that you cannot get about without a stick. ARG. Ay, to be sure. SCENE II.—BÉRALDE, TOINETTE.