First Wood. He shall shoot in a stone-bow for me.

I

never loved his beyond-sea-ship since he forsook the say, for paying ten shillings. He was there at the fall of a deer, and would needs (out of his mightiness) give ten groats for the dowcets; marry, his steward would have the velvet-head into the bargain, to turf his hat withal. I think he should love venery; he is an old Sir Tristrem ; for, if you be remembered, he forsook the stag once to strike a rascal milking in a meadow, and her he killed in the eye. Who shoots else?

20

Second Wood. The Lady Galatea.
First Wood. That's a good wench, an she would not

chide us for tumbling of her women in the brakes.
She's liberal, and, by the gods, they say she's honest;
and whether that be a fault, I have nothing to do.
There's all?

Second Wood. No, one more; Megra. 26 First Wood. That's a firker i' faith, boy; there's a wench I will ride her haunches as hard after a kennel of hounds as a hunting-saddle, and when she comes home, get 'em clapt, and all is well again. I have known her lose herself three times in one afternoon (if the woods have been answerable), and it has been work enough for one man to find her, and he has sweat for it. She rides well and she pays well. Hark! let's go.

[Exeunt.

Enter Philaster.

40

Phi. Oh that I had been nourished in these woods
With milk of goats and acorns, and not known
The right of crowns nor the dissembling trains
Of women's looks; but digged myself a cave
Where I, my fire, my cattle, and my bed,
Might have been shut together in one shed;
And then had taken me some mountain-girl,
Beaten with winds, chaste as the hardened rocks
Whereon she dwelt, that might have strewed my bed
With leaves and reeds, and with the skins of beasts,
Our neighbours, and have borne at her big breasts
My large coarse issue! This had been a life
Free from vexation.

Bel.

Enter Bellario.

Oh, wicked men !

An innocent may walk safe among beasts;
Nothing assaults me here. See, my grieved lord
Sits as his soul were searching out a way

51

To leave his body! [Aside.]—Pardon me, that must Break thy last commandment; for I must speak : You that are grieved can pity; hear, my lord! Phi. Is there a creature yet so miserable,

Bel.

That I can pity?

Oh, my noble lord,

View my strange fortune, and bestow on me,

Phi.

According to your bounty (if my service
Can merit nothing), so much as may serve
To keep that little piece I hold of life
From cold and hunger!

Is it thou? be gone!

Go, sell those misbeseeming clothes thou wear'st,
And feed thyself with them.

Bel. Alas, my lord, I can get nothing for them!
The silly country-people think 'tis treason
To touch such gay things.

Phi.

60

Now, by the gods, this is
Unkindly done, to vex me with thy sight.
Thou'rt fallen again to thy dissembling trade:
How shouldst thou think to cozen me again?
Remains there yet a plague untried for me?
Even so thou wept'st, and looked'st, and spok'st
when first

I took thee up:

Curse on the time! If thy commanding tears

70

I'll not betray it.

Which way wilt thou take?

That I may shun thee, for thine eyes are poison
To mine, and I am loath to grow in rage:
This way, or that way?

Bel. Any will serve; but I will choose to have

That path in chase that leads unto my grave.

80

[Exeunt severally.

Enter on one side Dion, and on the other the two

Woodmen.

Dion. This is the strangest sudden chance! You, woodman !

First Wood. My Lord Dion?

Dion. Saw you a lady come this way on a sable horse studded with stars of white ?

Second Wood. Was she not young and tall?

Dion. Yes. Rode she to the wood or to the plain?

Second Wood. Faith my lord, we saw none.

Dion. Pox of your questions then!

[Exeunt Woodmen.

Enter Cleremont.

What, is she found ?

Cle. Nor will be, I think.

90

Dion. Let him seek his daughter himself. She cannot

stray about a little necessary natural business, but the whole court must be in arms: when she has done, we shall have peace. Cle. There's already a thousand fatherless tales amongst us. Some say, her horse ran away with her; some, a wolf pursued her; others, it was a plot to kill her, and that armed men were seen in the wood; but questionless she rode away willingly.

99

King. Yes, lie and damn, rather than tell me that.
I say again, where is she? Mutter not !-
Sir, speak you; where is she?

Dion.
Sir, I do not know.
King. Speak that again so boldly, and, by Heaven,
It is thy last!-You, fellows, answer me;
Where is she? Mark me, all; I am your King:
I wish to see my daughter; show her me;

I do command you all, as you are subjects,
To show her me! What! am I not your King?
If ay, then am I not to be obeyed?

III

Dion. Yes, if you command things possible and honest.
King. Things possible and honest! Hear me, thou,

Dion.

Thou traitor, that dar'st confine thy King to things
Possible and honest! show her me,

Or, let me perish, if I cover not

All Sicily with blood!

Faith I cannot,

Unless you tell me where she is.

King. You have betrayed me; you have let me lose