day indeed to taste its freshness.

    +Elv.+ Madam, I needs must say, within a town
    I never saw so fine a one.

    +Blan.+ In truth
    I think not many sweeter. Those fountains,
    Playing among the orange-trees and myrtles,
    Have a fine mix'd effect on all the senses,
    But think not, Silvia, to enjoy the pleasure
    Without contributing to make it more.

    +Elv.+ How can I be so happy?

    +Blan.+ Francisca tells me she has overheard you
    Warbling alone such notes unto yourself,
    As have not only a good voice betray'd,
    But skill to manage it.

    +Elv.+ It is Francisca,
    That has betray'd a very ill one, madam.

    +Blan.+ Under yon palm-tree's shade, there is a seat
    That yields to none in the advantages
    It lends to music: let's go sit down there.
    For this first time, one song shall satisfy.

    +Elv.+ When you have heard that one, I shall not fear
    Your asking me another.

                         [_They go and sit down under the palm-tree, and
                                                        +Elvira+ sings._

                              +The Song.+

          _See, O, see!
          How every tree,
          Every bower,
          Every flower,
        A new life gives to others' joys;
          Whilst that I,
          Grief-stricken, lie,
          Nor can meet
          With any sweet,
        But what faster mine destroys.
        What are all the senses' pleasures,
        When the mind has lost all measures?_

          _Hear, O, hear!
          How sweet and clear
          The nightingale
          And waters'-fall
        In concert join for others' ears;
          Whilst to me
          For harmony
          Every air
          Echoes despair,
        And every drop provokes a tear.
        What are all the senses' pleasures,
        When the mind has lost all measures?_

    +Blan.+ I thank you, Silvia; but I'll not allow
    One of your youth to nourish melancholy
    By tunes and words so flattering to that passion.

    +Elv.+ The happine