ANG.
The marriage preparations sadden me.
O'erwhelmed with sorrow,
My eyes I lift to heaven; I strive to pray,
Then gaze on you and sigh. No more I say.
CLE.
Tircis, who fain would woo,
Tell him, Phyllis, is it true,
Is he so blest by your sweet grace
As in your heart to find a place?
ANG.
I may not hide it, in this dire extreme,
Tircis, I own for you my love....
CLE.
O blessed words! am I indeed so blest?
Repeat them, Phyllis; set my doubts at rest.
ANG.
I love you, Tircis!
CLE.
Ah! Phyllis, once again.
ANG.
I love you, Tircis!
CLE.
Alas! I fain
A hundred times would hearken to that strain.
ANG.
I love you! I love you!
Tircis, I love you!
CLE.
Ye kings and gods who, from your eternal seat,
Behold the world of men beneath your feet,
Can you possess a happiness more sweet?
My Phyllis! one dark haunting fear
Our peaceful joy disturbs unsought;
A rival may my homage share.
ANG.
Ah! worse than death is such a thought!
Its presence equal torment is
To both, and mars my bliss.
CLE. Your father to his vow would subject you.
ANG. Ah! welcome death before I prove untrue.
ARG. And what does the father say to all that?
CLE. Nothing.
ARG. Then that father is a fool to put up with those silly things,
without saying a word!
CLE.
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