Amyntor.
 Alexis! ah Alexis! can it be,
 Though so much wet and drie
 Doth drowne our eye,
 Thou keep'st thy winged voice from me?

 Alexis.
 Amyntor, a profounder sea, I feare,
 Hath swallow'd me, where now
 My armes do row,
 I floate i'th' ocean of a teare.

 Lucasta weepes, lest I look back and tread
 Your Watry land againe.
Amyn. I'd through the raine;
 Such showrs are quickly over-spread.

 Conceive how joy, after this short divorce,
 Will circle her with beames,
 When, like your streames,
 You shall rowle back with kinder force,

 And call the helping winds to vent your thought.
Alex. Amyntor! Chloris! where
 Or in what sphere
 Say, may that glorious fair be sought?

Amyn. She's now the center of these armes e're blest,
 Whence may she never move,
 Till Time and Love
 Haste to their everlasting rest.

Alex. Ah subtile swaine! doth not my flame rise high
 As yours, and burne as hot?
 Am not I shot
 With the selfe same artillery?

 And can I breath without her air?--Amyn.
 Why, then,
 From thy tempestuous earth,
 Where blood and dearth
 Raigne 'stead of kings, agen

 Wafte thy selfe over, and lest storms from far
 Arise, bring in our sight
 The seas delight,
 Lucasta, that bright northerne star.

Alex. But as we cut the rugged deepe, I feare
 The green god stops his fell
 Chariot of shell,
 And smooths the maine to ravish her.

Amyn. Oh no, the prince of waters' fires are done;
 He as his empire's old,
 And rivers, cold;
 His queen now runs abed to th' sun;

 But all his treasure he shall ope' that day:
 Tritons shall sound: his fleete
 In silver meete,
 And to her their rich offrings pay.

Alex. We flye, Amyntor, not amaz'd how sent
 By water, earth, or aire:
 Or if with her
 By fire: ev'n there
 I move in mine owne element.