Pastoral Dialogue

Parthenia.

My dear Castara, t'other day
I heard an ancient shepherd say,
Alas for me! my time draws nigh,
And shortly, shortly I must die!
What meant the man? for lo! apace
Torrents of tears ran down his face.

Castara.

Poor harmless maid! why wouldst thou know
What, known, must needs create thee woe?
'Twill cloud the sunshine of thy days,
And in thy soul such trouble raise,
Thou'lt grieve, and tremble, and complain,
And say that all thy beauty's vain.

Parthenia.

Ah me! sure 'tis some dreadful thing
That can so great disorder bring,
Yet tell me, prithee tell me, do,
For 'tis some ease the worst to know.

Castara.

To die, Parthenia, is to quit
The World, and the Sun's glorious light,
To leave our flocks and fields for ever,
To part, and never meet again, O never!
After that cruel hideous hour,
Thou and I shall sing no more;
In the cold Earth they will thee lay,
And what thou dot'st on shall be clay.

Parthenia.

Alas! why will they use me so,
A virgin that no evil do?

Castara.

Roses wither, turtles die,
Fair, and kind as thou and I.

Chorus amb.

Then, since 'tis appointed to the dust we must go,
Let us innocently live, and virtuously do;
Let us love, let us sing, 'tis no matter, 'tis all one,
If our lamps be extinguish'd at midnight or noon.