ROLFE. What gentleness! What sweet simplicity! what angel softness! _ROLFE goes to her. She, timidly, but with evident pleasure, receives his attentions. During this scene the PRINCESS discovers the first advances of love in a heart of perfect simplicity. SMITH, &c., converse apart._ ROBIN. [_In the tree._] Egad! there's never a head hanging to their ears; and their ears hang to their heads, for all the world as if they were christians; I'll venture down among them. [_Getting down._ NIMA. Ah! [_Bends her bow, and is about to shoot at him._ LARRY. Arrah! my little dark Diana, choose noble game, that's only little Robin. ROBIN. Aye, bless you, I'm only little Robin. [_Jumps down._ _NIMA examines him curiously, but fearfully._ ROBIN. Gad, she's taken with my figure; ah! there it is now; a personable fellow shall have his wench any where. Yes, she's admiring my figure. Well, my dusky dear, how could you like such a man as I am? NIMA. Are you a man? ROBIN. I'll convince you of it some day. Hark ye, my dear. [_Attempts to whisper._ NIMA. Ah! don't bite. ROBIN. Bite! what do you take me for? NIMA. A racoon. ROBIN. A racoon! Why so? NIMA. You run up the tree. [_Motions as if climbing._ LARRY. Well said, my little pagan Pythagoras!-- Ha! ha! ROBIN. Hum! [_Retires disconcerted._ _ROLFE and PERCY come forward._ ROLFE. Tell me, in sooth, didst ever mark such sweetness! Such winning--such bewitching gentleness! PERCY. What, caught, my flighty friend, love-lim'd at last? O Cupid, Cupid! thou'rt a skilful birder. Although thou spread thy net, i' the wilderness, Or shoot thy bird-bolt from an Indian bow, Or place thy light in savage ladies' eyes, Or pipe thy call in savage ladies' voices, Alas! each tow'ring tenant of the air Must fall heart pierc'd--or stoop, at thy command, To sigh his sad notes in thy cage, O Cupid! ROLFE. A truce; a truce! O friend, her guiltless breast Seems Love's pavilion, where, in gentle sleep, The unrous'd boy has rested. O my Percy! Could I but wake the slumb'rer-- PERCY. Nay, i' faith, Take courage; thou hast given the alarm: Methinks the drowsy god gets up apace. ROLFE. Say'st thou? SMITH. Come, gentlemen, we'll toward the town. NANTAQUAS. My sister, you will now return to our father. PRINCESS. Return, my brother? NANTAQUAS. Our father lives but while you are near him. Go, my sister, make him happy with the knowledge of his son's happiness. Farewell, my sister! [_The PRINCESS appears dejected._