_Ordonio_, did I not call for Musick?

_Ord_. You did, Sir.

_Abd_. _Roderigo!_

_Rod_. My gracious Lord--
[Roderigo _whispers to_ Abd.

_Abd_. No more--the Prince observes us.

_Phil_. There's no good towards when you are whisp'ring.

_Ord_. The Musick you commanded, Sir, is ready.

SONG.

Nymph.

_Make haste_, Amintas, _come away,
The Sun is up and will not stay;
And oh how very short's a Lover's_ Day!
_Make haste_, Amintas, _to this Grove,
Beneath whose Shade so oft I've sat,
And heard my dear lay'd Swain repeat,
How much he_ Galatea _lov'd;
Whilst all the listening Birds around,
Sung to the Musick of the blessed Sound.

_Make haste_, Amintas, _come away,