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(Sylvie appears left and listens a moment.)
Sylvie:
What do you murmur, moody wanderer?
Watching the dancers with a jaundic'd eye!
Is nothing lovely in this gay green world?
Ombrage:
Much that is lovely, little to be lov'd,
Friends who are fickle, women who are false
And planets unpropitious.
Sylvie:
O, have done,
You are the world's eternal malcontent,
You nurse a grudge 'gainst all humanity!
Your sensibility's so exquisite,
The Zephyr seems to you a boreal blast,
The Summer sunshine not to be endur'd.
