VIOLETTA (STEM VIOL)

But grief is heavy. Madame! y'have viewed these gardens;—has not art Sweetly conspired with nature, to make up A pleasure of variety? What do's? Yet Madame, you can find in your heart to tread Them underfoot, scorning as much the beauty, As the rare sense they carry. And what read you, pray? What think you of this Lily? It will become you well. You would not have us make love? And practised? Sure I should never do't. O! but we are women! Shall I take't on your experience? Is not this Sylvio, Calantha's Page? Let's use the benefit of this shade, to hide Our selves, and secretly acquainted grow With the black story of his sad mishap. Were't not so sad. Some Lady here o'th Court, I'll lay my life on't; Let's to the Princess and inform her of it. You must not expose him to the public view. Silly as we are, We know it; their vows and oaths are traitors To us, and yet we hug them, let them into our bosoms, Into our hearts, till they undo us? And yet he may dissemble that too As well as his vows. Yet now he loves you not. So are our losses too. And being strangers we are apt to betraduc't: Our good names are precious, they are all we have left Unconquered. Wear it in your bosom. I should be the envy of the Court then, T'is a pretty flower, what think you if I carry it to the Prin cease? No it's too Like a truth. How do'e my Lord? My Lord you intend no abuse to us? T'is a sad nuptial night, this, Heaven grant it may. 'Twas the Physicians potion this my Lord.