The Indian Queen

Let us wander not unseen,
by the elms on hillocks green,
while the ploughman near at hand
whistles o'er the furrow'd land.
And the milk maid singeth blithe
and the mower whets his scythe.

Let us wander not unseen,
by the elms on hillocks green,
while the ploughman near at hand
whistles o'er the furrow'd land.
And the shepherd tells his tale,
beneath the hawthorn in the dale.

Let us wander not unseen,
by the elms on hillocks green,
while the ploughman near at hand
whistles o'er the furrow'd land.

I attempt from Love's sickness to fly in vain,
Since I am myself my own fever and pain.

No more now, fond heart, with pride no more swell,
Thou canst not raise forces enough to rebel.
  I attempt from Love's sickness, etc..

For Love has more power and less mercy than fate,
To make us seek ruin and love those that hate.
  I attempt from Love's sickness, etc..

Boy:
 Wake, Quivera, wake, our soft rest must cease,
 And fly together with our country's peace;
 No more must we sleep under plantain's shade,
 Which neither heat could pierce nor cold invade;
 Where bounteous nature never feels decay,
 And opening buds drive falling fruits away. 

Girl:
 Why should men quarrel here, where all possess
 As much as they can hope for by success?
 None can have most where nature is so kind
 As to exceed man's use, though not his mind.
 
Boy:
 By ancient prophecy we have been told,
 Our land shall be subdu'd by one more old;
 And see that world already hither come. 

Girl, Boy:
 If these be they we welcome then our doom. 

Boy:
 Their looks are such that mercy flows from hence,
 More gentle than our native innocence;
 By their protection let us beg to live:
 They come not here to conquer, but forgive. 

Girl, Boy:
 If so your goodness may your power express,
 And we shall judge both best by our success.

God of dreams:
 Seek not to know what must not be reveal'd,
 Joys only flow when fate is most conceal'd.
 Too busy man would find his sorrows more
 If future fortunes he should know before;

 For by that knowledge of his destiny
 He would not live at all but always die.
 Enquire not then who shall from bonds be freed,
 Who'tis shall wear a crown and who shall bleed.

 All must submit to their appointed doom,
 Fate and misfortune will too quickly come.
 Let me no more with powerful charms be press'd
 I am forbid by fate to tell the rest.

Prelude & Song (Orazia):
 They tell us that your mighty powers above
 Make perfect your joys and your blessings by Love.
 Ah! Why do you suffer the blessing that's there
 To give a poor lover such sad torments here?

 Yet though for my passion such grief I endure,
 My love shall like yours still be constant and pure.
 To suffer for him gives an ease to my pains
 There's joy in my grief and there's freedom in chains; 

 If I were divine he could love me no more
 And I in return my adorer adore 
 O let his dear life the, kind Gods, be your care
 For I in your blessings have no other share.