Galatea & Acis
The flocks shall leave the mountains,
The woods the turtle dove,
The nymphs forsake the fountains,
Ere I forsake my love!

Polyphemus
Torture! fury! rage! despair!
I cannot, cannot bear!

Galatea & Acis
Not show'rs to larks so pleasing,
Nor sunshine to the bee,
Not sleep to toil so easing,
As these dear smiles to me.

Polyphemus
Fly swift, thou [bad word]  fly!
Die, presumptuous Acis, die!