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. (_trying to go on singing_).
Ah! my love....

ARG. No; no; that will do. An opera like that is in very bad taste.
The shepherd Tircis is an impertinent fellow, and the shepherdess
Phyllis an impudent girl to speak in that way in the presence of her
father. (_To_ ANGELIQUE) Show me that paper. Ah! ah! and where
are the words that you have just sung? This is only the music.