Chapter 37

_Enter_ Amintas, _drest like a Shepherd_, Urania _like a Shepherdess, the Druid_, Lyces, _and other dancing Swains, &c_.

_Druid_. Sir, I’m afraid you have made too bold a venture; And though your Wounds were more numerous than dangerous, I am not willing you should trust ‘em to the Air.

_Amin_. Father, your Skill has wrought a perfect Cure, For which, the Life you sav’d you shall command.

_Ura_. Me too h’ has freed of all my jealous Fears, By this eternal Knot ‘twixt thee and me Which he has tied, and Fate can ne’er undo. --Father--to you I owe _Amintas’. Liberty-- To you his Life; and now for all my Joys, Which if my future Service can repay, Command with Freedom her you have preserv’d.

_Amin_. Come, dear _Urania_, let’s hasten to the Camp; For I impatient grow to see my Prince; Heaven knows what my Mishap may have procur’d him.

_Ura_. How loth I am to leave these pretty Shades, The Gods and Nature have design’d for Love: Oh, my _Amintas_, wou’d I were what I seem, And thou some humble Villager hard by, That knew no other pleasure than to love, To feed thy little Herd, to tune a Pipe, To which the Nymphs should listen all the Day; We’d taste the Waters of these Crystal Springs, With more delight than all delicious Wines; And being weary, on a Bed of Moss, Having no other Canopy but Trees, We’d lay us down, and tell a thousand Stories.

_Amin_. For ever so I’d be content to dwell, I wou’d put off all frightful Marks of War, And wou’d appear as soft and calm to thee, As are thy Eyes when silently they wound. An Army I wou’d quit to lead thy Flock, And more esteem a Chaplet wreath’d by thee, Than the victorious Laurel. --But come, Love makes us idle.

_Druid_. My Prayers ever go along with you, And your fair Bride, _Urania_.--I cou’d wish My Youth and Vigour were as heretofore, When only Courts and Camps cou’d make me happy; And then I wou’d not bid farewel so soon To so much Virtue as I’ve found in you.

_Amin_. I humbly thank you, Father, for a Goodness That shames my poor Returns. Come, pretty _Lyces_, and thou, honest _Damon_, With all the rest of our kind Train; Let’s hasten to the Camp, during this Truce, Your little rustick Sports will find a welcome.

_Ura_. There are no Women in the Camp, my Lord.

_Amin_. No matter, thou canst not hate a Soldier, Since I am one; and you must be obedient, And learn to bear my Bow and Arrows now, It is the Duty of a _Scythian’s_ Wife.

_Ura_. She that can claim _Amintas_ by such Ties, May find a Safety wheresoe’er she flies.

[_Exeunt_.