SONG III.
Sylvia.
 LEAVE me, simple shepherd, leave me; 
 Drag no more a hopeless chain: 
I cannot like, nor would deceive thee; 
 Love the maid that loves again. 
Corin.
Tho' more gentle nymphs surround me, 
 Kindly pitying what I feel, 
Only you have power to wound me; 
 Sylvia, only you can heal. 
Sylvia.
Corin, cease this idle teazing; 
 Love that's forc'd is harsh and sour: 
If the lover be displeasing, 
 To persist disgusts the more. 
 Corin.
'Tis in vain, in vain to fly me, 
 Sylvia, I will still pursue; 
Twenty thousand times deny me, 
 I will kneel and weep anew. 
Sylvia.
Cupid ne'er shall make me languish, 
 I was born averse to love; 
Lovers' sighs, and tears, and anguish, 
 Mirth and pastime to me prove. 
Corin.
Still I vow with patient duty 
 Thus to meet your proudest scorn; 
You for unrelenting beauty, 
 I for constant love was born. 
But the fates had not consented, 
 Since they both did fickle prove; 
Of her scorn the maid repented, 
 And the shepherd—of his love.