DARIA.
Why more words then? love must be
In my case denied by heaven:
Since my love cannot be given
Save to one who 'll die for me.

CYNTHIA.
Thy ambition is a thing
So sublime, what can be said?--
Better I resumed and read,
Better, Nisida, thou shouldst sing,
This disdain so strange and strong,
This delusion little heeding.

NISIDA.
Yes, do thou resume thy reading,
I too will resume my song.

DARIA.
I, that I may not renew
Such reproaches, whilst you sing,
Whilst you read, in this clear spring
Thoughtfully myself shall view.

NISIDA sings.
O nightingale, whose sweet exulting strain
Tells of thy triumphs to the listening grove,
Thou fill'st my heart with envy and with pain!--
But no, but no, for if thou sing'st of love