THE Maids Metamorphosis. As it hath been sundry times Acted by the Children of Paul's.  
 
LONDON Printed by Thomas Creed, for Richard Olive, dwelling in long Lane. 1600.   

The Prologue.  
THe manifold great favours we have found,  
By you, to us poor weaklings still extended:  
Whereof your virtues have been only ground,  
And no desert in us to be so friended:  
Binds us some way or other to express,  
(Though all our all be else defeated quite  
Of any means) save duteous thankfulness,  
Which is the utmost measure of our might:  
Then to the boundless Ocean of your worth,  
This little drop of water we present:  
Where though it never can be singled forth,  
Let zeal be pleader for our good intent.  
Drops not diminish, but increase great floods:  
And mites impair not, but augment our goods.   

The Maids Metamorphosis.  Enter Phylander, Orestes, Eurymine. Eurymine. 
PHylander, and Orestes, what conceit  
Troubles your silent minds? Let me entreat  
Since we are come thus far, as we do walk  
You would devise some pretty pleasant talk:  
The air is cool, the evening high and fair,  
Why should your cloudy looks, then show despair?  Phy. 
Believe me fair Eurimine, my skill  
Is simple in discourse, and utterance ill:  
Orestes if he were disposed to try,  
Can better manage such affairs than I.  Eu. 
Why then Orestes let me crave of you  
Some old, or late done story to renew:  
Another time you shall request of me  
As good, if not, a greater courtesy.  Or. 
Trust me as now (nor can I show a reason)  
All mirth unto my mind comes out of season:  
For inward I am troubled in such sort,  
As all unfit I am to make report  
Of any thing may breed the least delight,  
Rather in tears, I wish the day were night:  
For neither can myself be merry now,  
Nor treat of aught that may be liked of you.  Eu. 
That's but your melancholic old disease,  
That never are disposed but when ye please.  Ph. 
Nay mistress, then since he denies the task  
myself will straight complish what ye ask:  
And though the pleasure in my tale be small,  
Yet may it serve to pass the time withal.  Eu. 
Thanks good Phylander, when you please say on,  
Better I deem a bad discourse, than none.  Phy. 
Sometime there lived a Duke not far from hence,  
Mighty in fame, and virtues excellence,  
Subjects he had, as ready to obey  
As he to rule: beloved every way,  
But that which most of all he gloried in,  
(Hope of his age, and comfort of his kin,)  
Was the fruition of one only son,  
A gallant youth, inferior unto none  
For virtue, shape, or excellence of wit,  
That after him upon his throne might sit.  
This youth when once he came to perfect age,  
The Duke would fain have linked in marriage  
With divers dames of honourable blood,  
But still his father's purpose he withstood.  Eu. 
How, was he not of metal apt to love?  Phy. 
Yes apt enough, as will the sequel prove.  
But so the stream of his affection lay,  
As he did lean a quite contrary way,  
Disproving still the choice his father made,  
And oftentimes the matter had delayed:  
Now giving hope he would at length consent,  
And then again, excusing his intent.  Eu. 
What made him so repugnant in his deeds?  Phy. 
Another love, which this disorder breeds:  
For even at home within his father's Court  
The Saint was shrined, whom he did honour most:  
A lovely dame, a virgin pure and chaste,  
And worthy of a Prince to be embraced.  
Had but her birth (which was obscure they said)  
Answered her beauty, this their opinion stayed.  
Yet did this wilful youth affect her still,  
And none but she was mistress of his will.  
Full often did his father him dissuade,  
From liking such a mean and low borne maid.  
The more his father strove to change his mind,  
The more the son became with fancy blind.  Eu. 
Alas, how sped the silly Lovers then?  Phy. 
As might even grieve the rude uncivil'st men.  
When hereupon to wean his fixed heart  
From such dishonour, to his high desert,  
The Duke had laboured, but in vain did strive,  
Thus he began his purpose to contrive:  
Two of his servants of undoubted troth,  
He bound by virtue of a solemn oath,  
To train the silly damsel out of sight,  
And there in secret to bereave her quite  Eu. 
Of what, her life?  Phy. 
Yes madam of her life,  
Which was the cause of all the former strife.  Eu. 
And did they kill her?  Phy. 
You shall hear anon:  
The question first must be decided on  
In your opinion, what's your judgement? say,  
Who were most cruel: those that did obey,  
Or he that gave commandment for the fact?  Eu. 
In each of them it was a bloody act:  
Yet they deserve (to speak my mind of both)  
Most pardon, that were bound thereto by oath.  Phy. 
It is enough, we do accept your doom,  
To pass unblamed, whate'er of you become.  Eu. 
To pass unblamed, whate'er become of me?  
What may the meaning of these speeches be?  Phy. 
Eurymine, my trembling tongue doth sail,  
My conscience irks, my fainting senses quail:  
My faltering speech bewrays my guilty thought,  
And stammers at the message we have brought.  Eu. 
Ay me, what horror doth invade my breast?  Or. 
Nay then Phylander I will tell the rest.  
damsel thus fares thy case, demand not why,  
You must forth with prepare yourself to die.  
Therefore dispatch, and set your mind at rest.  Eu. 
Phylander is it true? or doth he jest?  Phy. 
There is no remedy but you must die:  
By you I framed my tragic history.  
The Duke my master, is the man I meant,  
His son, the Prince, the maid of mean descent  
yourself, on whom Ascanio so doth dote,  
As for no reason may remove his thought:  
Your death the Duke determines by us two,  
To end the love betwixt his son and you:  
And for that cause we trained you to this wood,  
Where you must sacrifice your dearest blood.  Eur. 
Respect my tears.  Orest. 
We must regard our oath.  Eur. 
My tender years.  Or. 
They are but trifles both.  Eu. 
Mine innocency.  Or. 
That would our promise break,  
Dispatch forthwith, we may not hear you speak.  Eu. 
If neither tears nor innocency move,  
Yet think there is a heavenly power above.  Orest. 
A done, and stand not preaching here all day.  Eu. 
Then since there is no remedy, I pray  
Yet good my masters, do but stay so long  
Till I have ta'en my farewell with a song,  
Of him whom I shall never see again.  Phy. 
We will afford that respite to your pain.  Eu. 
But least the fear of death appall my mind,  
Sweet gentlemen let me this favour find.  
That you will vale mine eyesight with this scarf:  
That when the fatal stroke is aimed at me,  
I may not start, but suffer patiently.  Orest. 
Agreed, give me, I'll shadow ye from fear,  
If this may do it.  Eu. 
Oh I would it might,  
But shadows want the power to do that right.  she sings. 
Ye sacred Fires, and powers above,  
Forge of desires working love,  
Cast down your eye, cast down your eye  
Upon a Maid in misery.  
My sacrifice is lovers blood:  
And from eyes salt tears a flood:  
All which I spend, all which I spend  
For thee Ascanio, my dear friend:  
And though this hour I must feel  
The bitter sour of pricking steel,  
Yet ill or well, yet ill or well  
To thee Ascanio still farewell.  Orestes offers to strike her with his Rapier, and is stayed by Phylander. Orest. 
What means Phylander?  Phy. 
Oh forbear thy stroke,  
Her piteous moan and gesture might provoke  
Hard flints to ruth.  Orest. 
Hast thou forgot thy oath?  Phy. 
Forgot it? no.  Or. 
Then wherefore dost thou interrupt me so?  Phy. 
A sudden terror overcomes my thought.  Or. 
Then suffer me, that stands in fear of nought.  Phy. 
Oh hold Orestes, hear my reason first.  Or. 
Is all religion of thy vow forgot?  
Do as thou wilt, but I forget it not.  Phy. 
Orestes, if thou standst upon thine oath,  
Let me alone, to answer for us both.  Or. 
What answer canst thou give? I will not stay.  Phy. 
Nay villain, than my sword shall make me way.  Or. 
Wilt thou in this, against thy conscience strive?  Phy. 
I will defend a woman while I live.  
A virgin, and an innocent beside,  
Therefore put up, or else thy chance abide.  Or. 
I'll never sheathe my sword, unless thou show,  
Our oath reserved, we may let her go.  Phy. 
That will I do, if truth may be of force.  Or. 
And then will I be pleased to grant remorse.  Eu. 
Little thought & when out of door I went,  
That thus my life should stand on argument.  Phy. 
A lawful oath in an unlawful cause,  
Is first dispensed withal, by reasons laws:  
Then next, respect must to the end be had,  
Because th'intent, doth make it good or bad.  
Now here th'intent is murder as thou seest,  
Which to perform, thou on thy oath reliest:  
But since the cause is wicked and unjust,  
Th'effect must likewise be held odious.  
We swore to kill, and God forbids to kill:  
Shall we be ruled by him, or by man's will?  
Beside it is a woman is condemned:  
And what is he that is a man indeed,  
That can endure to see a woman bleed?  Or. 
Thou hast prevailed, Eurymine stand up,  
I will not touch thee for a world of gold.  Phy. 
Why now thou seemst to be of human mould.  
But on our grant fair maid that you shall live,  
Will you to us your faithful promise give,  
Henceforth t'abandon this your Country quite,  
And never more return into the sight  
Of fierce Telemachus, the angry Duke,  
Whereby we may be void of all rebuke?  Eur. 
Here do I plight my chaste unspotted hand,  
I will abjure this most accursed land:  
And vow henceforth what fortune ere betide,  
Within these woods and deserts to abide.  Phy. 
Now wants there nothing, but a fit excuse,  
To soothe the Duke, in his conceived abuse:  
That he may be persuaded she is slain,  
And we our wonted favour still maintain.  Orest. 
It shall be thus, within a Lawn hard by,  
Obscure with bushes, where no human eye,  
Can any way discover our deceit:  
There feeds a herd of Goats, and country neat.  
Some Kid, or other youngling, will we take,  
And with our swords dispatch it for her sake.  
And having slain it, rip his panting breast,  
And take the heart of the unguilty beast:  
Which to th'intent, our counterfeit report  
May seem more likely, we will bear to court:  
And there protest with bloody weapons drawn,  
It was her heart.  Phy. 
Then likewise take this Lawn,  
Which well Telemachus did know she wore:  
And let it be all spotted too with gore.  
How say you mistress, will you spare that vale?  Eur. 
That or what else, to verify your tale:  
And thanks Phylander, and Orestes both,  
That you preserve me from a tyrant's wroth.  Phy. 
I would it were within my power, I wis,  
To do you greater courtesy than this:  
But what we cannot by our deeds express  
In heart we wish to ease your heaviness.  Eur. 
A double debt, yet one word ere ye go,  
Commend me to my dear Ascanio:  
Whose loyal love, and presence to forego,  
Doth gall me more than all my other woe.  Orest. 
Our lives shall never want to do him good.  Phy. 
Nor yet our death, if he in danger stood:  
And mistress, so good fortune be your guide.  Or. 
And aught that may be fortunate beside.  (Exeunt. Eu. 
The like I wish unto yourselves again:  
And many happy days devoid of pain.  
And now Eurymine record thy state,  
So much dejected, and oppressed by fate:  
What hope remains? wherein hast thou to joy?  
Wherein to triumph, but thine own annoy?  
If ever wretch might tell of misery,  
Than I alas, poor I, am only she:  
Unknown of parents, destitute of friends,  
Hopeful of nought, but what misfortune sends.  
Banished, to live a fugitive alone,  
In uncouth paths, and regions never known.  
Behold Ascanio, for thy only sake,  
These tedious travels I must undertake:  
Nor do I grudge, the pain seems less to me,  
In that I suffer this distress for thee.  Enter Silvio, a Ranger. Sil. 
Well met fair Nymph, or Goddess if ye be:  
'tis strange methinks, that one of your degree  
Should walk these solitary groves alone.  Eu. 
It were no marvel if you knew my moan.  
But what are you that question me so far?  Sil. 
My habit tells you that, a Forester:  
That having lost a herd of skittish deer,  
Was of good hope, I should ha' found them here.  Eu. 
Trust me, I saw not any, so farewell.  Sil. 
Nay stay: and further of your fortunes tell:  
I am not one that means you any harm.  Enter Gemulo the shepherd. Ge. 
I think my Boy be fled away by charm.  
Ranger well met: within thy walk I pray,  
Sawst thou not Moyso, my unhappy Boy?  Sil. 
Shepherd not I, what meanst to seek him here?  Ge. 
Because the wag, possessed with doubtful fear,  
lest I would beat him for a fault he did:  
Amongst those Trees, I do suspect he's hid.  
But how now Ranger? you mistake I trow,  
This is a Lady, and no barren Dow.  Sil. 
It is indeed, and as it seems, distressed,  
Whose grief to know, I humbly made request:  
But she as yet will not reveal the same.  Ge. 
Perhaps to me she will: speak gentle dame?  
What danger great hath driven ye to this place?  
Make known your state, and look what slender grace,  
A shepherds poor ability may yield,  
You shall be sure of, ere I leave the field.  Eur. 
Alas good Sir, the cause may not be known,  
That hath enforced me to be here alone.  Sil. 
Nay fear not to discover what you are:  
It may be we may remedy your care.  Eu. 
Since needs you will, that I renew my grief,  
Whether it be my chance to find relief  
Or not, I wreak not: such my crosses are,  
As sooner I expect to meet despair.  
Then thus it is: not far from hence do dwell  
My parents, of the world esteemed well:  
Who with their bitter threats, my grant had won,  
This day to marry with a neighbour's son.  
And such a one, to whom I should be wife,  
As I could never fancy in my life.  
And therefore to avoid that endless thrall,  
This morn I came away and left them all.  Sil. 
Now trust me virgin, they were much unkind,  
To seek to match you so against your mind.  Ge. 
It was beside, unnatural constraint:  
But by the tenor of your just complaint,  
It seems you are not minded to return,  
Nor any more to dwell where you were borne.  Eu. 
It is my purpose, if I might obtain  
A place of refuge where I might remain.  Sil. 
Why go with me, my Lodge is not far off,  
Where you shall have such hospitality  
As shall be for your health and safety.  Ge. 
Soft Ranger, you do range beyond your skill,  
My house is nearer: and for my good will,  
It shall exceed a woodman's wooden stuff:  
Then go with me, I'll keep you safe enough.  Sil. 
I'll bring her to a bower beset with green.  Ge. 
And I an arbour, may delight a Queen.  Sil. 
Her diet shallbe Venison at my board.  Ge. 
Young Kid and Lamb, we shepherds can afford.  Sil. 
And nothing else?  Ge. 
Yes, ranging now and then,  
A Hog, a Goose, a Capon, or a Hen.  Sil. 
These walks are mine, amongst the shady trees.  Ge. 
For that I have, a garden full of Bees,  
Whose buzzing music with the flowers sweet,  
Each even and morning, shall her senses greet.  Sil. 
The Nightingale is my continual clock.  Ge. 
And mine the watchful, sin-remembering cock.  Sil. 
A hunt's up, I can tune her with my hounds.  Ge. 
And I can show her meads, and fruitful grounds.  Sil. 
Within these woods are many pleasant springs.  Ge. 
Betwixt yond dales, the Echo daily sings.  Sil. 
I marvel that a rustic shepherd dare  
With woodmen then audaciously compare?  
Why, hunting is a pleasure for a King,  
And Gods themselves sometime frequent the thing.  
Diana with her bow and arrows keen,  
Did often use the Chase, in Forests green.  
And so alas, the good Athenian knight,  
And swift Actaeon herein took delight:  
And Atalanta the Arcadian dame,  
Conceived such wondrous pleasure in the game:  
That with her train of Nymphs attending on,  
She came to hunt the Boar of Calydon.  Ge. 
So did Apollo walk with shepherds crook,  
And many Kings their sceptres have forsook:  
To lead the quiet life we shepherds took.  
Accounting it a refuge for their woe.  Sil. 
But we take choice of many a pleasant walk  
And mark the dear how they begin to stalk.  
When each according to his age and time,  
Pricks up his head, and bears a Princely mind:  
The lusty Stag conductor of the train,  
Leads all the herd in order down the plain:  
The baser rascals scatter here and there,  
As not presuming to approach so near.  Ge. 
So shepherds sometime sit upon a hill,  
Or in the cooling shadow of a mill:  
And as we sit, unto our pipes we sing,  
And therewith make the neighbouring groves to ring.  
And when the sun steals downward to the west,  
We leave our chat, and whistle in the fist:  
Which is a signal to our straggling flock,  
As Trumpets sound to men in martial shock.  Sil. 
Shall I be thus outfaced by a swain?  
I'll have a guard to wait upon her train,  
Of gallant woodmen, clad in comely green:  
The like whereof, hath seldom yet been seen.  Ge. 
And I of shepherds such a lusty crew,  
As never Forester the like yet knew:  
Who for their persons and their neat array,  
shallbe as fresh, as is the month of May.  
Where are ye there, ye merry noted swains?  
Draw near a while, and whilst upon the plains  
Your flocks do gently feed, let's see your skill,  
How you with chanting, can sad sorrow kill.  Enter shepherds singing. Sil. 
Thinks Gemulo to bear the bell away?  
By singing of a simple Roundelay?  
No, I have fellows, whose melodious throats  
Shall even as far exceed those homely notes  
As doth the Nightingale in music pass,  
The most melodious bird that ever was.  
And for an instance, here they are at hand,  
When they have done, let our deserts be scanned.  Enter woodmen, and sing. Eu. 
Thanks to you both, you both deserve so well,  
As I want skill your worthiness to tell:  
And both I do commend for your good will,  
And both I'll honour, love and reverence still:  
For never virgin had such kindness shown,  
Of strangers, yea, and men to her unknown.  
But more, to end this sudden controversy,  
Since I am made an umpire in the plea,  
This is my verdict: I'll entreat of you  
A Cottage for my dwelling: and of you,  
A flock to tend: and so indifferent  
My grateful pains on either shallbe spent.  Sil. 
I am agreed, and for the love I bear  
I'll boast, I have a Tenant is so fair.  Ge. 
And I will hold it as a rich possession,  
That she vouchsafes to be of my profession.  Sil. 
Then for a sign that no man here hath wrong  
From hence let's all conduct her with a song.  
The end of the first Act.   

Actus secundus.  Enter Ascanio, and joculo his Page. Asca. 
Away joculo.  Io. 
Here sir, at hand.  Asca. 
joculo, where is she?  Io. 
I know not.  Asca. 
When went she?  Io. 
I know not.  Asca. 
Which way went she?  Io. 
I know not.  Asca. 
Where should I seek her?  Io. 
I know not.  Asca. 
When shall I find her?  Io. 
I know not.  Asca. 
A vengeance take thee slave, what dost thou know?  Io. 
Marry sir, that I do know.  Asca. 
What villain?  Io. 
And you be so testy, go look:  
What a coil's here with you?  
If we knew where she were, what need we seek her?  
I think you are lunatic: where were you  
When you should have looked after her? now you  
Go crying up and down after your wench, like  
A Boy had lost his horn book.  Asca. 
Ah my sweet Boy.  Io. 
Ah my sweet Master: nay I can give you as good  
Words as you can give me: all's one for that.  Asca. 
What canst thou give me no relief?  Io. 
Faith sir, there comes not one morsel of comfort  
From my lips, to sustain that hungry maw  
Of your misery, there is such a dearth at this time,  
God amend it.  Asca. 
A joculo, my breast is full of grief,  
And yet my hope, that only wants relief.  Io. 
Your breast and my belly, are in two contrary keys,  
You walk to get stomach to your meat,  
And I walk to get meat to my stomach:  
Your breast's full, and my belly's empty.  
If they chance to part in this case, God send them  
Merry meeting: that my belly be full, and your breast empty.  Asca. 
Boy, for the love that ever thou didst owe,  
To thy dear master, poor Ascanio,  
Rack thy proved wits, unto the highest strain,  
To bring me back Eurymine again.  Io. 
Nay master, if wit could do it, I could tell you  
More: but if it ever be done, the very legerity  
Of the feet must do it: these ten nimble bones  
Must do the deed: I'll trot like a little dog:  
There's not a bush so big as my beard,  
But I'll be peeping in it: there's not a Coat but  
I'll search every corner: if she be above, or  
Beneath, over the ground, or under, I'll find her out.  Asca. 
Stay joculo: alas it cannot be:  
If we should part, I lose both her and thee:  
The woods are wide: and wandering thus about,  
Thou mayst be lost: and not my Love found out.  Io. 
I pray you let me go.  Asca. 
I pray thee stay.  Io. 
i'faith i'll run.  Asca. 
And dost not know which way.  Io. 
Any way: all's one, i'll draw dry foot:  
If you send not to seek her, you may lie  
Here long enough, before she come to seek you:  
She little thinks that you are hunting for her  
In these quarters.  Asca. 
Ah joculo, before I leave my Boy,  
Of this world's comfort, now my only joy:  
Seest thou this place? upon this grassy bed,  
With summers gaudy diaper bespread.  He lies down. 
Under these shadows shall my dwelling be:  
Till thou return, sweet joculo to me.  Io. 
And if my Convoy be not cut off by the way,  
It shall not be long before I be with you.  He speaks to the people. 
Well, I pray you look to my master: for  
Here I leave him amongst you: and if I  
Chance to light on the wench, you shall hear  
Of me by the next wind.  Exit joculo, Ascanio solus. Asca. 
In vain I fear, I beat my brains about,  
Proving by search, to find my mistress out:  
Eurymine, Eurymine, return:  
And with thy presence guild the beauteous morn:  
And yet I fear to call upon thy name,  
The prattling Echo, should she learn the same,  
The last words accent she'll no more prolong,  
But bear that sound upon her airy tongue.  
Adorned with the presence of my Love,  
The woods I fear, such secret power shall prove  
As they'll shut up each path: hide every way,  
Because they still would have her go astray:  
And in that place would always have her scene,  
Only because they would be ever green:  
And keep the winged choristers still there,  
To banish winter clean out of the year.  
But why persist I to bemoan my state,  
When she is gone, and my complaint too late?  
A drowsy dullness closeth up my sight,  
O powerful sleep, I yield unto thy might.  He falls asleep. Enter juno, and Iris. juno. 
Come hither Iris.  Iris. 
Iris is at hand,  
To attend jove's wife: great Juno's high command.  juno. 
Iris I know I do thy service prove,  
And ever since I was the wife of jove  
Thou hast been ready when I called still,  
And always most obedient to my will:  
Thou seest how that imperial Queen of love,  
With all the Gods, how she prevails above,  
And still against great Juno's hests doth stand,  
To have all stoup and bow, at her command:  
Her Doves and Swans, and Sparrows, must be graced.  
And on loves Altars, must be highly placed.  
My starry Peacocks, which doth bear my state:  
scarcely allowed within his palace gate:  
And since herself, she thus preferred doth see,  
Now the proud housewife will contend with me:  
And practiseth her wanton pranks to play  
With this Ascanio, and Eurymine.  
But Love shall know, in spite of all his skill,  
juno's a woman, and will have her will.  Iris. 
What is my Goddess will? may Iris ask?  juno. 
Iris, on thee I do impose this task,  
To cross proud Venus, and her purblind Lad,  
Until the mother, and her brat be mad,  
And with each other, set them so at odds,  
Till to their teeth they curse, and ban the Gods.  Iris. 
God's, the grant consists alone in you,  juno. 
Then mark the course which now you must pursue.  
Within this o'ergrown Forest, there is found  
A dusky Cave, thrust low into the ground:  
So ugly dark, so dampy and steep,  
As for his life the sun durst never peep  
Into the entrance: which doth so affright  
The very day, that half the world is night.  
Where fennish fogs, and vapours do abound:  
There Morpheus doth dwell within the ground,  
No crowing Cock, nor waking bell doth call,  
Nor watchful dog disturbeth sleep at all.  
No sound is heard in compass of the hill,  
But every thing is quiet, whist, and still.  
Amid this Cave, upon the ground doth lie,  
A hollow plancher, all of Ebony  
Covered with black, whereon the drowsy God,  
Drowned in sleep, continually doth nod:  
Go Iris go, and my commandment take,  
And beat against the doors till sleep awake,  
Bid him from me, in vision to appear,  
Unto Ascanio that lieth slumbering hear.  
And in that vision, to reveal the way,  
How he may find the fair Eurymine.  Iris. 
Madam, my service is at your command,  juno. 
Dispatch it then, good Iris out of hand.  
My Peacocks and my Chariot shall remain,  
About the shore, till thou return again.  Exit juno. Iris. 
About the business now that I am sent,  
To sleeps black Cave, I will incontinent:  
And his dark cabin, boldly will I shake,  
Until the drowsy lumpish God awake:  
And such a bouncing at his Cave I'll keep,  
That if pale death, seized on the eyes of sleep,  
I'll rouse him up, that when he shall me hear,  
I'll make his locks stand up on end with fear.  
Be silent air, whilst Iris in her pride  
Swifter than thought, upon the winds doth ride.  
What Somnus, what Somnus, Somnus.  Strikes. Pauses a little. 
What wilt thou not awake? are thou still so fast?  
Nay then i'faith, I'll have another cast.  
What Somnus Somnus I say?  Strikes again. Som. 
Who calls at this time of the day?  
What a balling dost thou keep?  
A vengeance take thee, let me sleep,  Iris. 
Up thou drowsy God, I say,  
And come presently away,  
Or I will beat upon this door,  
That after this, thou sleep'st no more.  Som. 
I'll take a nap, and come anon.  Iris. 
Out you beast, you block, you stone:  
Come, or at thy door I'll thunder,  
Till both heaven and hell do wonder, Somnus I say.  Som. 
A vengeance split thy chaps asunder.  Iris. 
What Somnus?  Enter Somnus. Som. 
Iris I thought it should be thee.  
How now mad wench, what wouldst with me?  Iris. 
From mighty juno, jove's immortal wife,  
Somnus I come: to charge thee on thy life,  
That thou unto this Gentleman appear,  
And in this place, thus as he lieth here,  
Present his mistress to his inward eyes,  
In as true manner, as thou canst devise.  Som. 
I would thou wert hanged for waking me.  
Three sons I have, the eldest Morpheus hight:  
He shows of man, the shape or sight.  
The second Icelor, whose behests  
Doth show the forms of birds and beasts.  
Phantasor for the third, things lifeless he:  
Choose which like thee of these three.  Iris. 
Morpheus: if he in human shape appear.  Som. 
Morpheus come forth in perfect likeness here,  
Of, how call ye the Gentlewoman?  Iris. 
Eurymine.  Som. 
Of Eurymine: and show this Gentleman,  
What of his mistress is become.  Kneeling down by Ascanio. Enter Eurymine, to be supposed Morpheus. Mor. 
My dear Ascanio, in this vision see,  
Eurymine doth thus appear to thee:  
As soon as sleep hath left thy drowsy eyes,  
Follow the path that on thy right hand lies,  
An aged Hermit thou by chance shalt find,  
That there hath been, time almost out of mind:  
This holy man, this aged reverent Father,  
There in the woods, doth roots and simples gather:  
His wrinkled brow, tells strengths past long ago:  
His beard as white, as winters driven snow.  
He shall discourse the troubles I have passed,  
And bring us both together at the last.  
Thus she presents her shadow to thy sight,  
That would her person gladly if she might.  Iris. 
See how he catches to embrace the shade.  Mor. 
This vision fully doth his powers invade.  
And when the heat shall but a little slake:  
Thou then shalt see him presently awake.  Som. 
Hast thou aught else, that I may stand in stead?  Iris. 
No Somnus, no: go back unto thy bed:  
juno she shall reward thee for thy pain.  Som. 
Then good night Iris, I'll to rest again.  Iris. 
Morpheus' farewell: to juno I will fly.  Mor. 
And I to sleep, as fast as I can hie.  Exeunt. Ascanio starting, says. 
Eurymine: Ah my good Angel stay:  
O vanish not so suddenly away.  
O stay my Gods, whither dost thou fly?  
Return my sweet Eurymine, 'tis I.  
Where art thou speak? Let me behold thy face:  
Did I not see thee in this very place  
Even now? Here did I not see thee stand?  
And here thy feet did bless the happy land?  
Eurymine: Oh wilt thou not attend?  
Fly from thy foe: Ascanio is thy friend.  
The fearful Hare, so shuns the labouring hound,  
And so the Dear eschews the Hunt's man wound.  
The trembling Foul, so flies the falcon's gripe:  
The Bondman, so, his angry masters stripe.  
I follow not, as Phoebus Daphne did:  
Nor as the Dog pursues the trembling Kid.  
Thy shape it was: alas I saw not thee:  
That sight were fitter for the Gods then me.  
But if in dreams, there any truth be found,  
Thou art within the compass of this ground.  
I'll range the woods, and all the groves about,  
And never rest, until I find thee out.  Exit Enter at one door, Mopso singing. Mop. 
Terlitelo, Terlitelo, terlitelee, terlo,  
So merrily this shepherds Boy  
His horn that he can blow,  
Early in a morning, late, late, in an evening,  
And ever sat this little Boy,  
So merrily piping.  Enter at the other door, Frisco singing. Fris. 
Can you blow the little horn?  
we'll, well, and very well.  
And can you blow the little horn,  
Amongst the leaves green?  Enter joculo in the midst singing. Io. 
Fortune my foe, why dost thou frown on me?  
And will my fortune never better be:  
Wilt thou I say, for ever breed my pain?  
And wilt thou not restore my joys again?  Frisco. 
Cannot a man be merry in his own walk,  
But a must be thus encumbered?  Io. 
I am disposed to be melancholy,  
And I cannot be private, for one villain or other.  Mop. 
How the devil stumbled this case of rope-ripes into my way?  Fris. 
Sirrah, what art thou? and thou?  Io. 
I am Page to a Courtier.  Mop. 
And I a Boy to a Shepherd.  Fris. 
Thou art the Apple-squire to an ewe,  
And thou sworn brother to a bale of false dice.  Io. 
What art thou?  Fris. 
I am a Boy to a Ranger.  Io. 
An Outlaw by authority: one that never sets mark of his own goods, nor never knows how he comes by other men's.  Mop. 
That never knows his cattle, but by their horns.  Fris. 
Sirrah, so you might have said of your master's sheep.  Io. 
I marry: this takes fire like touch powder,  
And goes off with a huff.  Fris. 
They come of crick-cracks, and shake their tails like a squib.  Io. 
Ha you Rogues, the very steel of my wit, shall strike fire from the flint of your understandings: have you not heard of me?  Mop. 
Yes, if you be that joculo that I take you for, we have heard of your exploits, for cozening of some seven, and thirty Alewives, in the Villages here about.  Io. 
A wit, as nimble as a sempster's needle, or a girls finger at her busk point.  Mop. 
Your jest goes too low sir.  Fris. 
O but 'tis a tickling jest.  Io. 
Who would have thought to have found this in a plain villain, that never wore better garment, than a green jerkin?  Frisco. 
O Sir, though you Courtiers have all the honour,  
You have not all the wit.  Mop. 
Soft sir, 'tis not your wit can carry it away in this company.  Io. 
Sweet Rogues, your company to me, is like music to a wench at midnight: when she lies alone, and could wish, yea marry could she.  Fris. 
And thou art as welcome to me, as a new poking stick to a Chamber maid.  Mop. 
But soft, who comes here?  Enter the Fairies, singing and dancing. 

By the Moon we sport and play,  
With the night begins our day:  
As we dance the dew doth fall,  
Trip it little urchins all:  
Lightly as the little be,  
Two by two, and three by three:  
And about go we, and about go we.   Io. 
What Mammets are these?  Fris. 
O they be the Fairies that haunt these woods.  Mop. 
O we shall be pinched most cruelly.  1 Fay. 
Will you have any music Sir?  2 Fay. 
Will you have any fine music?  3 Fay. 
Most dainty music?  Mop. 
We must set a face on't now, there's no flying.  
No Sir: we are very merry I thank you.  1 Fay. 
O but you shall Sir.  Fris. 
No, I pray you save your labour.  2 Fay. 
O Sir, it shall not cost you a penny.  Io. 
Where be your Fiddles?  3 Fay. 
You shall have most dainty Instruments Sir.  Mop. 
I pray you, what might I call you?  1 Fay. 
My name is Penny.  Mop. 
I am sorry I cannot purse you.  Fris. 
I pray you sir, what might I call you?  2 Fay. 
My name is Cricket.  Fris. 
I would I were a Chimney for your sake.  Io. 
I pray you, you pretty little fellow, what's your name?  3 Fay. 
My name is little, little Prick.  Io. 
Little, little Prick? o you are a dangerous Fairy,  
And fright all the little wenches in the Country,  
Out of their beds.  
I care not whose hand I were in, so I were out of yours.  1 Fay. 
I do come about the cops,  
Leaping upon flowers tops:  
Then I get upon a fly,  
She carries me above the sky:  
And trip and go.  2 Fay. 
When a dew drop falleth down,  
And doth light upon my crown,  
Than I shake my head and skip:  
And about I trip.  3 Fay. 
When I feel a girl asleep,  
Underneath her frock I peep,  
There to sport, and there I play,  
Than I bite her like a flea:  
And about I skip.  Io. 
ay, I thought where I should have you.  1 Fay. 
willt please you dance fir?  Io. 
Indeed sir, I cannot handle my legs.  2 Fay. 
O you must needs dance and sing:  
Which if you refuse to do,  
We will pinch you black and blue.  
And about we go.  They all dance in a Ring, and sing as followeth. 

Round about, round about, in a fine Ring a:  
Thus we dance, thus we dance, and thus we sing a.  
Trip and go, to and fro, over this Green a:  
All about, in and out, for our brave Queen a.  
Round about, round about, in a fine Ring a:  
Thus we dance, thus we dance, and thus we sing a.  
Trip and go, to and fro, over this Green a:  
All about, in and out, for our brave Queen a.  
We have danced round about, in a fine Ring a:  
We have danced lustily, and thus we sing a.  
All about, in and out, over this Green a:  
to and fro, trip and go, to our brave Queen a.    

Actus tertius. Scena. 1.  Enter Appollo, and three Charites. 1. Cha. 
No no great Phoebus, this your silence tends.  
To hide your grief from knowledge of your friends,  
Who if they knew the cause in each respect,  
Would show their utmost skill to cure th'effect.  Ap. 
Good Ladies, your conceits in judgement err,  
Because you see me dampish, you refer  
The reason to some secret grief of mine:  
But you have seen me melancholy many a time,  
Perhaps it is the glowing weather now,  
That makes me seem so ill at ease to you.  1 
Fine shifts to colour that you cannot hide,  
No Phoebus, by your looks may be descried  
Some hid conceit that harbours in your thought,  
Which hath therein, some strange impression wrought:  
That by the course thereof, you seem to me,  
another man than you were wont to be.  Ap. 
No Ladies, you deceive yourselves in me:  
What likelihood or token do ye see,  
That may persuade it true that you suppose?  2 
Apollo, hence a great suspicion grows,  
Year not so pleasant now, as erst in company,  
Ye walk alone, and wander solitary.  
The pleasant toys we did frequent sometime,  
Are worn away, and grown out of prime.  
Your Instrument hath lost his silver sound,  
That rang of late, through all this grovy ground.  
Your bow wherewith the chase you did frequent,  
Is closed in case, and long hath been unbent.  
How differ you from that Apollo now,  
That whilom sat in shade of Laurel bow,  
And with the warbling of your ivory Lute,  
T'allure the Fairies for to dance about.  
Or from Th'Apollo that with bended bow,  
Did many a sharp and wounding shaft bestow.  
A midst the Dragon pithon's scaly wings,  
And forced his dying blood to spout in springs.  
Believe me Phoebus, who saw you then and now,  
Would think there were a wondrous change in you.  Ap. 
Alas fair dames, to make my sorrows plain,  
Would but revive an ancient wound again.  
Which grating presently upon my mind,  
Doth leave a scar of former woes behind.  3 
Phoebus, if you account us for the same,  
That tender thee, and love Apollo's name,  
power forth to us the fountain of your woe,  
From whence the spring of these your sorrows slow?  
If we may any way redress your moan,  
Command our best, harm will we do you none.  Ap. 
Good Ladies, though I hope for no relief,  
I'll show the ground of this my present grief.  
This time of year, or there about it was,  
Accursed be the time, ten times alas:  
When I from Delphos took my journey down,  
To see the games in noble Sparta Town,  
There saw I that, wherein I 'gan to joy,  
Amilcar's son a gallant comely boy,  
hight (hyacinth) full fifteen years of age,  
Whom I intended to have made my Page,  
And bore as great affection to the boy,  
As ever jove, in Ganymede did joy.  
Among the games, myself put in a pledge,  
To try my strength in throwing of the sledge,  
Which poising with my strained arm I threw  
So far, that it beyond the other slew.  
My hyacinth, delighting in the game,  
Desired to prove his manhood in the same:  
And catching ere the sledge lay still on ground,  
With violent force, aloft it did rebound  
Against his head, and battered out his brain:  
And so alas, my lovely boy was slain.  1. 
Hard hap O Phoebus, but sith it's past & gone,  
We wish ye to forbear this frustrate moan.  Ap. 
Ladies, I know my sorrows are in vain,  
And yet from mourning can I not refrain.  1. 
Eurania some pleasant Song shall sing.  
To put ye from your dumps.  Ap. 
Alas, no Song will bring  
The least relief to my perplexed mind.  2. 
No Phoebus? what other pastime shall we find,  
To make ye merry with?  Ap. 
Fair dames I thank you all,  
No sport nor pastime can release my thrall:  
My grief's of course, when it the course hath had,  
I shall be merry, and no longer sad.  1 
What will ye then we do?  Ap. 
And please ye, you may go,  
And leave me here to seed upon my woe.  2 
Then Phoebus, we can but wish ye well again.  Exeunt Charites. Ap. 
I thank ye gentle Ladies for your pain.  
O Phoebus wretched thou thus art thou feign  
With forged excuses, to conceal thy pain.  
O Hyacinth, I suffer not these fits  
For thee my Boy, no, no, another sits  
Deeper than thou, in closet of my breast:  
Whose sight so late, hath wrought me this unrest.  
And yet no Goddess, nor of heavenly kind  
She is, whose beauty thus torments my mind.  
No Fairy Nymph, that haunts these pleasant woods,  
No Goddess of the flowers, the fields, nor floods:  
Yet such an one, whom justly I may call  
A Nymph, as well as any of them all.  
Eurymine, what heaven affords thee here?  
So may I say, because thou com'st so near?  
And nearer far unto a heavenly shape,  
Than she of whom jove triumphed in the Rape.  
I'll sit me down, and wake my grief again,  
To sing a while, in honour of thy name.  

The Song.  
A midst the mountain Ida groves,  
Where Paris kept his Herd:  
Before the other Ladies all,  
He would have thee preferred.  
Pallas for all her painting then,  
Her face would seem but pale:  
Then juno would have blushed for shame,  
And Venus looked stale.  
Eurymine thyself alone,  
Shouldst bear the golden ball:  
So far would thy most heavenly form,  
Excel the other all.  
O happy Phoebus, happy then,  
Most happy should I be:  
If fair Eurymine would please,  
To join in love with me.   Enter Eurymine. Eu. 
Although there be such difference in the change,  
To live in Court, and desert woods to range,  
Yet in extremes, wherein we cannot choose,  
An extreme refuge is not to refuse.  
Good gentlemen, did any see my herd?  
I shall not find them out, I am afeard:  
And yet my master waiteth with his bow,  
Within a standing, for to strike a do.  
You saw them not? your silence makes me doubt:  
I must go further, till I find them out.  Ap. 
What seek you pretty Maid?  Eu. 
Forsooth my herd of deer.  Ap. 
I saw them lately, but they are not here.  Eu. 
I pray Sir, where?  Ap. 
An hour ago or twain,  
I saw them feeding all above the plain.  Eu. 
So much the more my toil to fetch them in.  
I thank ye Sir.  Ap. 
Nay stay sweet Nymph with me.  Eu. 
My business, cannot so dispatched be.  Ap. 
But pray ye Maid, it will be very good,  
To take the shade, in this unhaunted wood:  
This flowering bay with branches large and great,  
Will shroud ye safely, from the parching heat.  Eu. 
Good sir, my business calls me hence in haste.  Ap. 
O stay with him, whom conquered thou hast.  
With him, whose restless thoughts do beat on thee:  
With him that joys, thy wished face to see.  
With him whose joys surmount all joys above:  
If thou wouldst think him worthy of thy love.  Eu. 
Why Sir, would you desire another make?  
And wear that garland for your mistress sake?  Ap. 
No Nymph, although I love this laurel tree,  
My fancy ten times more affecteth thee:  
And as the bay is always fresh and green,  
So shall my love as fresh to thee be seen.  Eu. 
Now truly Sir, you offer me great wrong,  
To hold me from my business here so long.  Ap. 
O stay sweet Nymph, with more advisement view,  
What one he is, that for thy grace doth sue:  
I am not one that haunts on hills or Rocks,  
I am no shepherd waiting on my flocks.  
I am no boisterous Satire, no nor Faun,  
That am with pleasure of thy beauty drawn.  
Thou dost not know God wot, thou dost not know,  
The wight, whose presence thou disdainest so.  Eu. 
But I may know, if you would please to tell.  Ap. 
My father in the highest heavens doth dwell:  
And I am known the son of jove to be,  
Whereon the folk of Delphos honour me.  
By me is known what is, what was, and what shall be,  
By me are learned the Rules of harmony.  
By me the depth of Physics lore is found:  
And power of herbs that grow upon the ground.  
And thus by circumstances mayst thou see,  
That I am Phoebus, who doth fancy thee.  Eu. 
No sir, by these discourses may I see,  
You mock me with a forged pedigree.  
If son you be to jove, as erst ye said,  
In making love unto a mortal maid,  
You work dishonour to your deity:  
I must be gone: I thank ye for your courtesy.  Ap. 
Alas, abandon not thy Lover so.  Eu. 
I pray sir heartily, give me leave to go.  Ap. 
The way o'ergrown, with shrubs and bushes thick,  
The sharpened thorns, your tender feet will prick.  
The brambles round about, your train will lap,  
The burrs and briars, about your skirts will wrap.  Eu. 
If Phoebus, thou of jove the offspring be,  
Dishonour not thy deity so much,  
With proffered force, a silly maid to touch:  
For doing so, although a god thou be,  
The earth, and men on earth, shall ring thy infamy.  Ap. 
Hard speech to him that loveth thee so well.  Eu. 
What know I that?  Ap. 
I know it, and can tell: and feel it too.  Eu. 
If that your love be such,  
As you pretend, so fervent and so much,  
For proof thereof, grant me but one request.  Ap. 
I will, by jove my father, I protest:  
Provided first, that thy petition be,  
Not hurtful to thyself, nor harm to me.  
For so sometimes did Phaeton my son,  
Request a thing, whereby he was undone.  
He lost his life through craving it, and I  
Through granting it, lost him my son thereby.  Eu. 
Then Phoebus thus it is, if thou be he,  
That art pretended in thy pedigree,  
If son thou be to jove as thou dost feign,  
And challengest that title not in vain:  
Now here bewray some sign of godhead then?  
And change me straight, from shape of maid to man?  Ap. 
Alas, what fond desire doth move thy mind  
To wish thee altered from thy native kind?  
If thou in this thy woman's form canst move,  
Not men but gods, to sue and seek thy love:  
Content thyself with natures bounty than,  
And covet not to bear the shape of man.  
And this moreover will I say to thee,  
Fairer man than may be, thou shalt never be.  Eu. 
These vain excuses, manifestly show,  
Whether you usurp Apollo's name or no.  
Sith my demand so far surmounts your Art,  
Ye join exceptions, on the other part.  Ap. 
Nay then my doubtless Deity to prove,  
Although thereby for ever I lose my Love,  
I grant thy wish, thou art become a man:  
I speak no more, than well perform I can.  
And though thou walk in changed body now,  
This penance shall be added to thy vow:  
thyself a man, shalt love a man, in vain:  
And loving, wish to be a maid again.  Eu. 
Apollo, whether I love a man or not,  
I thank ye, now I will accept my lot:  
And sith my change hath disappointed you,  
Ye are at liberty to love anew.  Exit. Ap. 
If ever I love, sith now I am forsaken,  
Where next I love, it shall be better taken:  
But whatsoe'er my fate in loving be,  
Yet thou mayst vaunt, that Phoebus loved thee.  Exit Appollo. Enter joculo, Frisco, and Mopso, at three several doors. Mop. 
joculo, whither jettest thou?  
Hast thou found thy Master?  Io. 
Mopso well met, hast thou found thy mistress?  Mop. 
Not I by Pan.  Io. 
Nor I by Pot.  Mop. 
Pot? what god's that?  Io. 
The next god to a Pan, and such a pot it may be, As he shall have more servants than all the Pans in a tinker's shop.  Mop. 
Frisco, where hast thou been frisking? hast thou found?  Fris. 
I have found.  Io. 
What hast thou found Frisco?  Fris. 
A couple of crack-ropes.  Io. 
And I.  Mop. 
And I.  Fris. 
I mean you two.  Io. 
I you two.  Mop. 
And I you two.  Fris. 
Come, a treble conjunction: all three, all three.  They all embrace each other. Mop. 
But Frisco, hast not found the fair shepherdess, thy masters Mistress?  Fris. 
Not I by God, Priapus I mean.  Io. 
Priapus quoth 'a? What in a God might that be?  Fris. 
A plain God, with a good peg to hang a shepherdess bottle upon.  Io. 
Thou being a foresters Boy, shouldst swear by the God of the woods.  Fris. 
My Master swears by Silvanus, I must swear by his poor neighbour.  Io. 
And here's a shepherds swain, swears by a Kitchen God, Pan.  Mop. 
Pan's the shepherds God, but thou swearest by Pot, what God's that?  Io. 
The God of good-fellowship: well, you have wicked Masters, that teach such little Boys as you are to swear so young.  Fris. 
Alas good old great man, will nor your master swear?  Io. 
I never heard him swear six sound oaths in all my life.  Mop. 
May hap he cannot, because he's diseased.  Fris. 
Peace Mopso, I will stand to't, he's neither brave Courtier, bouncing Cavalier, nor boon Companion, if he swear not sometime: for they will swear, forswear, and swear.  Io. 
How? swear, forswear, and swear? how is that?  Fris. 
They'll swear at dice, forswear their debts: And swear when they lose their labour in love.  Io. 
Well, your masters have much to answer for, that bring ye up so wickedly.  Fris. 
Nay my master is damned I'll be sworn, for his very soul burns in the fiery eye of his fair mistress.  Mop. 
My master is not damned, but he is dead, for he hath buried his joys in the bosom of his fair mistress.  Io. 
My master is neither damned nor dead, and yet is in the case of both your masters: like a wooden shepherd, and a sheepish woodman, for he is lost in seeking of a lost sheep, and spent in hunting a do that he would fain strike.  Fris. 
Faith and I am foundered with flinging to and fro, with Chestnuts, Hazelnuts, bullace, and wildings, for presents from my master to the fair shepherdess.  Mop. 
And I am tired like a Calf, with carrying a Kid every week to the Cottage of my masters sweet Lambkin.  Io. 
I am not tired, but so weary I cannot go, with following a master, that follows his mistress, that follows her shadow, that follows the sun, that follows his course.  Fris. 
That follows the colt, that followed the mare, the man rode on to Midleton: shall I speak a wise word?  Mop. 
Do and we will burn our caps.  Fris. 
Are not we fools?  Io. 
Is that a wise word?  Fris. 
Give me leave: are not we fools to wear our young feet to old stumps, when there dwells a cunning man in a Cave hereby, who for a bunch of roots, a bag of nuts, or a bushel of crabs, will tell us, where thou shalt find thy master, and which of our masters shall win the wench's favour?  Io. 
Bring me to him Frisco, I'll give him all the points at my hose, to point me right to my master.  Mop. 
A bottle of whey shall be his meed, if he save me labour for posting with presents.  Enter Aramanthus, with his Globe, &c. Fris. 
Here he comes, offend him not joculo,  
For fear he turn thee to a Jack an Apes.  Mop. 
And thee to an Owl.  Io. 
And thee to a Woodcock.  Fris. 
A Woodcock, an Owl, and an Ape?  Mop. 
A long bill, a broad face, and no tail?  Io. 
Kiss it Mopso, and be quiet, I'll salute him civilly.  
Good speed good man.  Aram. 
Welcome bad boy.  Fris. 
He speaks to thee joculo.  Io. 
Meaning thee Frisco.  Aram. 
I speak, and mean not him, nor him, nor thee,  
But speaking so, I speak and mean, all three.  Io. 
If ye be good at Rhymes and Riddles old man, expound me this.  
These two serve two, those two serve one,  
Assoil me this, and I am gone.  Aram. 
You three serve three, those three do seek to one,  
One shall her find, he comes, and she is gone.  Io. 
This is a wise answer: her going caused his coming,  
For if she had near gone he had near come.  Mop. 
Good master wizard, leave these murlemewes, and tell Mopso plainly, whether Gemulo my master, that gentle shepherd, shall win the love of the fair shepherdess his flock keeper or not, and I'll give ye a bottle of as good whey, as ere ye laid lips too.  Fris. 
And good father Fortune teller, let Frisco know, whither Silvio my master that lusty Forester, shall gain that same gay shepherdess or no? I'll promise ye nothing for your pains, but a bag full of nuts: if I bring a crab or two in my pocket, take them for advantage.  Io. 
And gentle master wiseman, tell joculo, if his noble Master Ascanio, that gallant Courtier, shallbe found by me, and she found by him, for whom, he hath lost his father's favour, and his own liberty, and I my labour, and I'll give ye thanks: for we Courtiers, neither give nor take bribes.  Aram. 
I take your meaning better than your speech,  
And I will grant the thing you do beseech:  
But for the tears of Lovers be no toys,  
I'll tell their chance in parables to Boys.  Fris. 
In what ye will, let's hear our masters luck.  Aram. 
Thy masters Do, shall turn unto a Buck.  To Mopso. 
Thy masters ewe, be changed to a Ram,  To joculo. 
Thy master seeks a maid, and finds a man.  
Yet for his labour shall he gain his meed,  
The other two shall sigh, to see him speed.  Mop. 
Then my master shall not win the shepherdess?  Aram. 
No: haste thee home, and bid him right his wrong,  
The shepherdess will leave his flock ere long.  Mop. 
I'll run to warn my master of that.  Exit. Fris. 
My master woodman, takes but wooden pains to no purpose I think, what say ye, shall he speed?  Aram. 
No: tell him so, and bid him tend his dear:  
And cease to woe, he shall not wed this year.  Fris. 
I am not sorry for it, farewell joculo.  Exit. Io. 
I may go with thee, for I shall speed even so too, by staying behind.  Aram. 
Better my Boy, thou shalt thy master find,  
And he shall find the party he requires:  
And yet not find the sum of his desires.  
Keep on that way, thy master walks before,  
Whom when thou find'st, lose him good Boy no more.  Exit ambo.  

Act. 4.  Enter Ascanio, and joculo. Asca. 
Shall then my travel ever endless prove?  
That I can hear no tidings of my Love?  
In neither desert, grove, nor shady wood,  
Nor obscure thicket, where my foot hath trod?  
But every ploughman, and rude shepherd swain,  
Doth still reply unto my greater pain?  
Some Satire then, or Goddess of this place,  
Some water Nymph, vouchsafe me so much grace  
As by some view, some sign, or other sho,  
I may have knowledge if she live or no.  Echo. 
No.  Asca. 
Then my poor heart is buried too in woe:  
Record it once more, if the truth be so?  Echo. 
So.  Asca. 
How, that Eurymine is dead, or lives?  Echo. 
Lives.  Asca. 
Now gentle Goddess thou redeemest my soul  
From death to life: Oh tell me quickly where?  Echo. 
Where?  Asca. 
In some remote far region, or else near?  Echo. 
near.  Asca. 
Oh what conceals her from my thirsty eyes?  
Is it restraint? or some unknown disguise?  Echo. 
Disguise.  Io. 
Let me be hanged my Lord, but all is lies.  Echo. 
Lies.  Io. 
True, we are both persuaded thou dost lie.  Echo. 
Thou dost lie.  Io. 
Who I?  Echo. 
Who I?  Io. 
I thou.  Echo, 
I thou.  Io. 
Thou dar'st not come and say so to my face.  Echo. 
Thy face.  Io. 
I'll make you then for ever prating more.  Ecch. 
More.  Io. 
Will ye prate more? I'll see that presently.  Ascha. 
Stay joculo, it is the Echo Boy,  
That mocks our grief, and laughs at our annoy.  
Hard by this grove there is a goodly plain  
Betwixt two hills, still fresh with drops of rain:  
Where never spreading Oak nor Poplar grew,  
Might hinder the prospect or other view,  
But all the country that about it lies,  
Presents itself unto our mortal eyes:  
Save that upon each hill, by levy trees,  
The Sun at highest, his scorching heat may lose.  
There languishing myself I will betake,  
As heaven shall please, and only for her sake.  Io. 
Stay master, I have spied the fellow now, that mocked  
us all this while: see where he sits.  Aramanthus sitting. Asca. 
The very shape my Vision told me off,  
That I should meet with as I strayed this way.  Io. 
What lines he draws? best go not over far.  Asca. 
Let me alone, thou dost but trouble me.  Io. 
You'll trouble us all anon, ye shall see.  Asca. 
God speed fair Sir.  Io. 
My Lord do ye not mark?  
How the sky thickens, and begins to dark?  Asca. 
Health to ye Sir.  Io. 
Nay then God be our speed.  Ara. 
Forgive me Sir, I saw ye not indeed.  Asca. 
Pardon me rather, for molesting you.  Io. 
Such another face I never knew.  Ara. 
Thus studious I am wont to pass the time,  
By true proportion, of each line from line.  Io. 
Oh now I see he was learning to spell,  
There's A. B. C. in midst of his table.  Asca. 
Tell me I pray ye sir, may I be bold to crave  
The cause of your abode within this Cave?  Ara. 
To tell you that in this extreme distress,  
Were but a tale of Fortune's fickleness.  
Sometime I was a Prince of Lesbos I'll,  
And lived beloved, whilst my good stars did smile:  
But clouded once with this world's bitter cross,  
My joy to grief, my gain converts to loss.  Asca. 
Forward I pray ye, faint not in your tale.  Io. 
It will not all be worth a cup of Ale.  Ara. 
A short discourse of that which is too long  
however pleasing, can never seem but wrong:  
Yet would my tragic story fit the stage,  
Pleasant in youth, but wretched in mine age.  
Blind Fortune setting up and pulling down,  
Abused by those myself raised to renown:  
But that which wrings me near, and wounds my heart,  
Is a false brothers base unthankful part.  Asc. 
A small offence compared with my disease,  
No doubt ingratitude in time may cease  
And be forgot: my grief outlives all hours:  
Raining on my head, continual hapless showers.  Ara. 
You sing of yours, and I of mine relate:  
To every one, seems worst his own estate.  
But to proceed, exiled thus by spite,  
Both country I forego, and brother's sight:  
And coming hither where I thought to live,  
Yet here I cannot but lament and grieve.  Asca. 
Some comfort yet in this there doth remain:  
That you have found a partner in your pain.  Ara. 
How are your sorrows subject, let me hear?  Asca. 
More overthrown, and deeper in despair  
Than is the manner of your heavy smart,  
My cureless grief, doth rankle at my heart.  
And in a word, to hear the sum of all,  
I love, and am beloved: but therewithal  
The sweetness of that banquet must forego,  
Whose pleasant taste is changed with bitter woe.  Ara. 
A conflict, but to try your noble mind,  
As common unto youth, as rain to wind.  Asca. 
But hence it it that doth me treble wrong,  
Expected good, that is forborn so long:  
Doth lose the virtue which the use would prove.  Ara. 
Are you then sir, despised of your Love?  Asca. 
No, but deprived of her company.  
And for my careless negligence therein:  
Am bound to do this penance for my sin.  
That if I never find where she remains,  
I vow a year shallbe my end of pains.  Ara. 
Was she then lost within this Forest here?  Asc. 
Lost or forlorn, to me she was right dear.  
And this is certain, unto him that could  
The place where she abides to me unfold:  
For ever I would vow myself his friend,  
Never revolting till my life did end.  
And therefore sir, (as well I know your skill)  
If you will give me physic for this ill,  
And show me if Eurymine do live,  
It were a recompense for all my pain,  
And I should think my joys were full again.  Ara. 
They know the want of health that have been sick,  
myself sometime acquainted with the like,  
Do learn in duty of a kind regard,  
To pity him whose hap hath been so hard.  
How long I pray ye hath she absent been?  Asca. 
Three days it is since that my Love was seen.  Io. 
here's learning for the nonce, that stands on joints:  
For all his cunning, i'll scarce give two points.  Ara. 
Mercurio regnant virum, subsequent Luna, Faeminum designat.  Io. 
Nay and you go to latin, then 'tis sure, my master shall find her, if he could tell when.  Ara. 
I cannot tell what reason it should be,  
But love and reason here do disagree.  
By proof of learned principles I find,  
The manner of your love's against all kind.  
And not to feed ye with uncertain joy,  
Whom you affect so much, is but a Boy.  Io. 
A Riddle for my life, some Antic jest▪  
Did I not tell ye what his cunning was?  Asca. 
I love a Boy?  Ara. 
Mine Art doth tell me so.  Asca. 
Add not a fresh increase unto my woe.  Ara. 
I dare avouch what lately I have said,  
The love that troubles you, is for no maid.  Asca. 
As well I might be said to touch the sky,  
Or dark the horizon with tapestry:  
Or walk upon the waters of the sea,  
As to be haunted with such lunacy.  Ara. 
If it be false, mine Art I will defy.  Asca. 
Amazed with grief, my love is then transformed.  Io. 
Master be contented, this is leap year.  
Women wear breeches, petticoats are dear.  
And that's his meaning, on my life it is.  Asc. 
Oh God, and shall my torments never cease?  Ara. 
Repress the fury of your troubled mind:  
Walk here a while, your Lady you may find.  Io. 
A Lady and a Boy, this hangs well together:  
Like snow in harvest, sunshine and foul weather.  Enter Eurymine singing. 
Since hope of help my froward stars deny,  
Come sweetest death, and end my misery.  
He left his country, I my shape have lost,  
Dear is the love, that hath so dearly cost.  Eu. 
Yet can I boast, though Phoebus were unjust  
This shift did serve, to bar him from his lust.  
But who are these alone? I cannot choose  
But blush for shame, that any one should see,  
Eurymine in this disguise to be.  Asca. 
It is, it is not my love, Eurymine.  Eury. 
Hark some one hallows: gentlemen adieu,  
In this attire I dare not stay their view.  Exit. Asca. 
My love, my joy, my life,  
By eye, by face, by tongue, it should be she.  
Oh ay, it was my love, I'll after her,  
And though she pass the Eagle in her flight,  
I'll never rest, till I have gained her sight.  Exit. Ara. 
Love carries him, and so retains his mind,  
That he forgets how I am left behind:  
Yet will I follow softly, as I can.  
In hope to see the fortune of the man.  Exit. Io. 
Nay let them go a God's name, one by one,  
With my heart I am glad to be alone.  
Here's old transforming, would with all his Art,  
He could transform this tree into a tart.  
See then if I would flinch from hence or no:  
But for it is not so, I needs must go.  Exit. Enter Silvio and Gemulo. Sil. 
Is it a bargain Gemulo, or not?  Ge. 
Thou never knew'st me break my word I wot,  
Nor will I now, betide me bale or bliss.  Sil. 
Nor I break mine, and here her cottage is:  
I'll call her forth.  Ge. 
Will Silvio be so rude?  Sil. 
Never shall we betwixt ourselves conclude  
Our controversy, for we over ween.  Ge. 
Not I, but thou, for though thou jet'st in green,  
As fresh as Meadow in a morn of May,  
And scornest the shepherd, for he goes in grey.  
But forester, believe it as thy Creed,  
My mistress minds my person, not my weed.  Sil. 
So 'twas I thought, because she tends thy sheep  
Thou thinkst in love of thee she taketh keep:  
That is as townish damsels send the hand,  
But send the heart to him a loose doth stand.  
So deals Eurymine with Siluto.  Ge. 
Albe she look more blithe on Gemulo,  
Her heart is in the dial of her eye,  
That points me here.  Sil. 
That shall we quickly try.  
Eurymine.  Ge. 
Erynnis stop thy throat,  
Unto thy hound thou hallow'st such a note:  
I thought that shepherds had been mannerless,  
But Woodmen are the ruder grooms I guess.  Sil. 
How should I call her Swain, but by her name?  Ge. 
So Hobinoll the ploughman, calls his dame.  
Call her in carol from her quiet coat.  Sil. 
Agreed: but whether shall begin his note.  Ge. 
Draw cuts.  Sil. 
Content, the longest shall begin.  Ge. 
'tis mine.  Sil. 
Sing loud, for she is far within.  Ge. 
Instruct thy singing in thy Forest ways.  
shepherds know how to chant their roundelays.  Sil. 
Repeat our bargain, ere we sing our Song,  
lest after wrangling, should our mistress wrong.  
If me she choose, thou must be well content:  
If thee she choose, I give the like consent.  Ge. 
'tis done: now Pan pipe on thy sweetest Reed,  
And as I love, so let thy servant speed.  
As little Lambs lift up their snowy sides,  
When mounting Lark salutes the gray-eyed morn:  Sil. 
As from the Oaken leaves the honey glides,  
Where Nightingales record upon the thorn.  Ge. 
So rise my thoughts.  Sil. 
So all my senses cheer.  Ge. 
When she surveys my flocks.  Sil. 
And she my dear.  Ge. 
Eurymine.  Sil. 
Eurymine.  Ge. 
Come forth.  Sil. 
Come forth.  Ge. 
Come forth and cheer these plains.  And both sing this together, when they have sung it single. Sil. 
The woodmans's Love.  Ge. 
And Lady of the Swains.  Enter Eurymine. 
Fair Forester and lovely shepherd Swain,  
Your Carols call Eurymine in vain:  
For she is gone, her Cottage and her sheep,  
With me her brother, hath she left to keep:  
And made me swear by Pan ere she did go,  
To see them safely kept, for Gemulo.  They both look strangely upon her, apart each from other. Ge. 
What? hath my Love a new come Lover than?  Sil. 
What? hath my Mistress got another man?  Ge. 
This Swain will rob me of Eurymine.  Sil. 
This youth hath power to win Eurymine.  Ge. 
This strangers beauty bears away my prize.  Sil. 
This stranger will bewitch her with his eyes.  Ge. 
It is Adonis.  Sil. 
It is Ganymede.  Ge. 
My blood is chill.  Sil. 
My heart is cold as Lead.  Eu. 
Fair youths, you have forgot for what ye came,  
You seek your Love, she's gone.  Ge. 
The more too blame.  Eu. 
Not so, my sister had no will to go:  
But that our parents dread command was so.  Sil. 
It is thy 'scuse, thou art not of her kin,  
But as my rival, com'st my Love to win.  Eu. 
By great Apollo's sacred Deity,  
That shepherdess so near is Sib to me,  
As I x may (for all this world) her wed:  
For she and I in one self womb were bred.  
But she is gone, her flock is left to me.  Ge. 
The shepcoat's mine, and I will in and see.  Sil. 
And I.  Exeunt Silvio and Gemulo. Eu. 
Go both, cold comfort shall you find,  
My manly shape, hath yet a woman's mind:  
Prone to reveal what secret she doth know,  
God pardon me, I was about to show  
My transformation: peace they come again.  Enter Silvio, and Gemulo. Sil. 
Have ye found her?  Ge. 
No, we look in vain.  Eu. 
I told ye so.  Ge. 
Yet hear me, newcome Swain.  
Albe thy seemly feature set no sale  
But honest truth upon thy novel tale,  
Yet (for this world is full of subtlety)  
We wish thee go with us for company  
Unto a wiseman woning in this wood,  
hight Aramanth, whose wit and skill is good:  
That he may certify our mazing doubt,  
How this strange chance and change hath fallen out.  Eu. 
I am content: have with ye, when ye will.  Sil. 
even now.  Eu. 
he'll make ye muse, if he have any skill.  Exeunt.  

Act. 5.  Enter Ascanio, and Eurymine. Asca. 
Eurymine, I pray if thou be she,  
Refrain thy haste, and do not fly from me.  
The time hath been my words thou wouldst allow,  
And am I grown so loathsome to thee now?  Eu. 
Ascanio, time hath been I must confess,  
When in thy presence was my happiness:  
But now the manner of my misery,  
Hath changed that course, that so it cannot be.  Asca. 
What wrong have I contrived? what injury  
To alienate thy liking so from me?  
If thou be she whom sometime thou didst feign,  
And bearest not the name of friend in vain,  
Let not thy borrowed guise of altered kind,  
Alter the wonted liking of thy mind:  
But though in habit of a man thou goest,  
Yet be the same Eurymine thou wast.  Eu. 
How gladly would I be thy Lady still,  
If earnest vows might answer to my will?  Asca. 
And is thy fancy altered with thy guise?  Eu. 
My kind, but not my mind in any wise.  Asca. 
What though thy habit differ from thy kind:  
Thou mayest retain thy wonted loving mind.  Eu. 
And so I do.  Asca. 
Then why art thou so strange?  
Or wherefore doth thy plighted fancy change?  Eu. 
Ascanio, my heart doth honour thee.  Asc. 
And yet continuest still so strange to me?  Eu. 
Not strange, so far as kind will give me leave.  Asca. 
Unkind that kind, that kindness doth bereave:  
Thou sayst thou lovest me.  Eu. 
As a friend his friend:  
And so I vow to love thee to the end.  Asca. 
I wreak not of such love, love me but so  
As fair Eurymine loved Ascanio.  Eu. 
That love's denied unto my present kind.  Asca. 
In kindly shows, unkind I do thee find:  
I see thou art as constant as the wind.  Eu. 
Doth kind allow a man to love a man?  Asca. 
Why art not thou Eurymine?  Eu. 
I am.  Asca. 
Eurymine my Love?  Eu. 
The very same.  Asca. 
And was't not thou a woman then?  Eu. 
Most true.  As. 
And art thou changed from a woman now?  Eu. 
Too true.  Asc. 
These tales my mind perplex: thou art Eurymine.  Eu. 
In name, but not in sex.  Asca. 
What then?  Eu. 
A man.  Asca. 
In guise thou art I see.  Eu. 
The guise thou seest, doth with my kind agree.  Asca. 
Before thy flight thou wast a woman tho.  Eu. 
True Ascanio.  Asca. 
And since art thou a man?  Eu. 
Too true dear friend.  Asca. 
Then have I lost a wife.  Eu. 
But found a friend, whose dearest blood and life,  
shallbe as ready as thine own for thee:  
In place of wife, such friend thou hast of me.  Enter joculo, and Aramanthus. Io. 
I here they are: master well o'erta'en.  
I thought we two should never meet again:  
You went so fast, that I to follow ye,  
Slipped over hedge and ditch, and many a tall tree.  Ara. 
Well said my Boy, thou knowest not how to lie.  Io. 
To lie Sir? how say you was it not so?  
You were at my heels, though far off, ye know:  
For master, not to counterfeit with ye now,  
he's as good a footman as a shackled sow.  Asca. 
Good Sir you're welcome, sirrah hold your prate.  Ara. 
What speed in that I told to you of late?  Asca. 
Both good and bad, as doth the sequel prove,  
For (wretched) I have found, and lost my Love.  
If that be lost which I can near enjoy.  Io. 
Faith Mistress you're too blame to be so coy.  
The day hath been, but what is that to me:  
When more familiar with a man you'd be.  Ara. 
I told ye you should find a man of her:  
Or else my rule did very strangely err.  Asca. 
Father, the trial of your skill I find,  
My love's transformed into another kind:  
And so I find, and yet have lost my Love.  Io. 
Ye cannot tell, take her aside and prove.  Asca. 
But sweet Eurymine make some report  
Why thou departedst from my father's Court?  
And how this strange mishap to thee befell,  
Let me entreat thou wouldst the process tell.  Eu. 
To show how I arrived in this ground,  
Were but renewing of an ancient wound:  
Another time that office i'll fulfil,  
Let it suffice, I came against my will.  
And wandering here about this Forest side,  
It was my chance of Phoebus to be spied.  
Whose love because I chastened did withstand,  
He thought to offer me a violent hand.  
But for a present shift to shun his rape,  
I wished myself transformed into this shape:  
Which he performed (God knows) against his will:  
And I since then, have wailed my fortune still.  
Not for misliking ought I find in me,  
But for thy sake, whose wife I meant to be.  Asca. 
Thus have you heard our woeful destiny,  
Which I in heart lament, and so doth she.  Ara. 
The fittest remedy that I can find,  
Is this, to ease the torment of your mind.  
Persuade yourselves that great Apollo can,  
As easily make a woman of a man,  
As contrariwise he made a man of her.  Asca. 
I think no less.  Ara. 
Then humble suit prefer  
To him: perhaps your prayers may attain,  
To have her turned into her form again.  Eu. 
But Phoebus such disdain to me doth bear,  
As hardly we shall win his grant I fear.  Ara. 
Then in these verdant fields all richly died,  
With nature's gifts, and Flora's painted pride:  
There is a goodly spring whose crystal streams  
Beset with myrtles, keep back Phoebus beams:  
There in rich seats all wrought of ivory,  
The Graces sit, listening the melody:  
The warbling Birds do from their pretty bills  
Unite in concord, as the brook distills.  
Whose gentle murmur with his buzzing notes,  
Is as a base unto their hollow throats.  
Garlands beside they wear upon their brows,  
Made of all sorts of flowers earth allows:  
From whence such fragrant sweet perfumes arise,  
As you would swear that place is Paradise.  
To them let us repair with humble heart,  
And meekly show the manner of your smart:  
So gracious are they in Apollo's eyes,  
As their entreaty quickly may suffice.  
In your behalf, I'll tell them of your states,  
And crave their aids, to stand your advocates.  Asca. 
For ever you shall bind us to you then.  Ara. 
Come go with me: I'll do the best I can.  Io. 
Is not this hard luck to wander so long,  
And in the end to find his wife marked wrong.  Enter Phylander. 
A proper jest as ever I heard tell,  
In sooth, methinks the breech becomes her well:  
And might it not make their husbands fear then,  
Would all the wives in our town might wear them.  
Tell me youth, art a stranger here or no?  Io. 
Is your commission sir, to examine me so?  Phy. 
What is it thou? now by my troth well met.  Io. 
By your leave, it's well overtaken yet.  Phy. 
I little thought I should ha' found thee here.  Io. 
Perhaps so sir.  Phy. 
I prithee speak, what cheer?  Io. 
What cheer can here be hopte for in these woods?  
Except trees, stones, briars, bushes, or buds?  Phy. 
My meaning is, I fain would hear thee say,  
How thou dost man, why thou tak'st this another way.  Io. 
Why then sir, I do as well as I may.  
And to persuade ye, that welcome ye be,  
Wilt please ye sir, to eat a crab with me?  Phy. 
Believe me joculo, reasonable hard cheer.  Io. 
Phylander, 'tis the best we can get here.  
But when return ye to the Court again?  Phy. 
Shortly, now I have found thee.  Io. 
To requite your pain,  
Shall I entreat you bear a present from me?  Phy. 
To whom?  Io. 
To the Duke.  Phy. 
What shall it be?  Io. 
Because Venison so convenient doth not fall,  
A peck of Acorns to make merry withal.  Phy. 
What meanest thou by that?  Io. 
By my troth sir as ye see,  
Acorns are good enough for such as he.  
I wish his honour well, and to do him good:  
Would he had eaten all the Acorns in th'wood.  Phy. 
Good words joculo, of your Lord & mine.  Io. 
As may agree with such a churlish swine.  
How does his honour?  Phy. 
Indifferently well.  Io. 
I wish him better.  Phy. 
How?  Io. 
Vicegerent in hell.  Phy. 
Dost thou wish so, for aught that he hath done?  Io. 
I for the love he bears unto his son.  Phy. 
he's grown of late, as fatherly and mild,  
As ever father was unto his child:  
And sent me forth to search the coast about,  
If so my hap might be to find him out.  
And if Eurymine alive remain,  
To bring them both unto the Court again.  
Where is thy master?  Io. 
Walking about the ground.  Phy. 
Oh that his Love Eurymine were found.  Io. 
Why so she is, come follow me and see.  
I'll bring ye straight where they remaining be.  Exeunt. Enter three or four Muses, Aramanthus, Ascanio, Silvio, and Gemulo. Asca. 
Cease your contention for Eurymine.  
Nor words, nor vows, can help her misery:  
But he it is that did her first transform,  
Must calm the gloomy rigor of this storm:  
Great Phoebus, whose Palace we are near,  
Salute him then in his celestial sphere:  
That with the notes of cheerful harmony,  
He may be moved to show his Deity.  Sil. 
But where's Eurymine, have we lost her sight?  As. 
Poor soul, within a cave, with fear affright  
She sits to shun Apollo's angry view,  
Until she see what of our prayers ensue:  
If we can reconcile his love or no,  
Or that she must continue in her woe.  1. Mu. 
Once have we tried Ascanio, for thy sake  
And once again we will his power awake:  
Not doubting but as he is of heavenly race,  
At length he will take pity on her case.  
Sing therefore, and each party from his heart,  
In this our music, bear a cheerful part.  

Song.  
All hail fair Phoebus, in thy purple throne,  
Vouchsafe the regarding of our deep moan.  
Hide not, oh hide not, thy comfortable face,  
But pity, but pity, a virgin's poor case.   Phoebus appears. 1. Muse. 
Illustrate beauty, Crystal heavens eye,  
Once more we do entreat thy clemency:  
That as thou art the power of us all,  
Thou wouldst redeem Eurymine from thrall.  
Grant gentle God, grant this our small request,  
And if ability in us do rest:  
Whereby we ever may deserve the same,  
It shallbe seen, we reverence Phoebus name.  Phoe. 
You sacred sisters of fair Hellion,  
On whom my favours evermore have shone,  
In this you must have patience with my vow,  
I cannot grant what you aspire unto.  
Nor was't my fault, she was transformed so,  
But her own fond desire, as ye well know.  
We told her too, before her vow was passed,  
That cold repentance would ensue at last.  
And sith herself did wish the shape of man,  
She caused the abuse, digest it how she can.  2. Muse. 
Alas, if unto her you be so hard,  
Yet of Ascanio have some more regard,  
And let him not endure such endless wrong,  
That hath pursued her constant love so long.  Asca. 
Great God, the grievous travels I have passed,  
In restless search, to find her out at last:  
My plaints my toils, in am of my annoy,  
Have well deserved my Lady to enjoy.  
Penance too much I have sustained before:  
Oh Phoebus, plague me not with any more.  
Nor be thou so extreme, now at the worst  
To make my torments greater than at the first.  
My Father's late displeasure is forgot,  
And there's no let, nor any churlish blot  
To interrupt our joys from being complete,  
But only thy good favour to entreat:  
In thy great grace it lies to make my state  
Most happy now, or most infortunate.  1. Mu. 
Heavenly Apollo, on our knees I pray,  
Vouchsafe thy great displeasure to allay.  
What honour to thy Godhead will arise,  
To plague a silly Lady in this wise?  
Beside, it is a stain unto thy Deity,  
To yield thine own desires the sovereignty:  
Then show some grace unto a woeful Dame,  
And in these groves, our tongues shall sound thy fame.  Phoe. 
Arise dear nurses of divinest skill,  
You sacred Muses of Parnassus hill:  
Phoebus is conquered by your dear respect,  
And will no longer clemency neglect.  
You have not sued nor prayed to me in vain:  
I grant your wills, she is a maid again.  Asca. 
Thy praise shall never die whilst I do live.  2. Mu. 
Nor will we slack perpetual thanks to give.  Phoe. 
Thalia, near the Cave where she remains  
The Fairies keep, request them of their pains,  
And in my name, bid them forthwith provide,  
From that dark place, to be the ladies' guide.  
And in the bounty of their liberal mind,  
To give her clothes according to her kind.  1. Mu. 
I go divine Apollo.  Exit. Phoe. 
Haste again.  
No time too swift, to ease a lovers pain.  Asca. 
Most sacred Phoebus, endless thanks to thee,  
That dost vouchsafe so much to pity me.  
And aged father, for your kindness shown,  
Imagine not your friendship ill bestown.  
The earth shall sooner vanish and decay,  
Than I will prove unthankful any way.  Ara. 
It is sufficient recompense to me,  
If that my silly help have pleasured ye.  
If you enjoy your Love and heart's desire,  
It is enough: nor do I more require.  Phoe. 
Grave Aramanthus, now I see thy face  
I call to mind, how tedious a long space  
Thou hast frequented these sad deserts here,  
Thy time employed, in heedful mind I bear:  
The patient sufferance of thy former wrong,  
Thy poor estate, and sharp exile so long,  
The honourable port thou borest sometime,  
Till wronged thou wast, with undeserved crime  
By them whom thou to honour didst advance,  
The memory of which thy heavy chance,  
Provokes my mind to take remorse on thee,  
Father henceforth, my client shalt thou be:  
And pass the remnant of thy fleeting time,  
With Laurel wreath, amongst the Muses nine.  
And when thy age hath given place to fate,  
Thou shalt exchange thy former mortal state:  
And after death, a palm of fame shalt wear,  
Amongst the rest that live in honour here.  
And lastly know, that fair Eurymine  
Redeemed now from former misery  
Thy daughter is, whom I for that intent  
Did hide from thee, in this thy banishment:  
That so she might the greater scourge sustain,  
In putting Phoebus to so great a pain.  
But freely now, enjoy each other's sight:  
No more Eurymine: abandon quite  
That borrowed name, as Atlanta, she is called,  
And here she woman, in her right shape installed.  Asca. 
Is then my Love derived of noble race?  Phoe. 
No more of that, but mutually embrace.  Ara. 
Lives my Atlanta, whom the rough Sea's wave  
I thought had brought unto a timeless grave?  Phoe. 
Look not so strange, it is thy father's voice.  
And this thy Love: Atlanta now rejoice.  Eu. 
As in another world of greater bliss  
My daunted spirits do stand amazed at this.  
So great a tide of comfort overflows,  
As what to say, my faltering tongue scarce knows:  
But only this, unperfect though it be,  
Immortal thanks great Phoebus unto thee.  Phoe. 
Well lady, you are retransformed now,  
But I am sure you did repent your vow.  Eury. 
Bright Lamp of glory, pardon my rashness past.  Phoe. 
The penance was your own, though I did fast.  Enter Phylander, and joculo. Asca. 
Behold dear Love, to make your joys abound,  
Yonder Phylander comes.  Io. 
Oh sir, well found.  
But most especially it glads my mind,  
To see my mistress restored to kind.  Phy. 
My Lord & Madam, to requite your pain,  
Telemachus hath sent for you again.  
All former quarrels now are trodden down,  
And he doth smile, that heretofore did frown.  Asca. 
Thanks kind Phylander, for thy friendly news  
Like Juno's balm, that our life's blood renews.  Phy. 
But Lady, first ere you your journey take,  
Vouchsafe at my request, one grant to make.  Eu. 
Most willingly.  Phoe. 
The matter is but small.  
To wear a branch of Laurel in your Cawl  
For Phoebus sake, lest else I be forgot,  
And think upon me, when you see me not.  Eu. 
Here while I live a solemn oath I make,  
To love the Laurel for Apollo's sake.  Ge. 
Our suit is dashed, we may depart I see.  Phoe. 
Nay Gemulo and Silvio, contented be:  
This night let me entreat ye you will take,  
Such cheer as I and these poor Dames can make.  
Tomorrow morn we'll bring you on your way.  Sil. 
Your Godhead shall command us all to stay.  Phoe. 
Then Ladies gratulate this happy chance,  
With some delightful tune and pleasant dance.  
Mean space, upon his Harp will Phoebus play,  
So both of them may boast another day  
And make report, that when their wedding chanced,  
Phoebus gave music, and the Muses danced.  

The Song.  
Since painful sorrows date hath end,  
And time hath coupled friend with friend:  
Rejoice we all, rejoice and sing,  
Let all these groves of Phoebus' ring.  
Hope having won, despair is vanished:  
Pleasure revives, and care is banished.  
Then trip we all this Roundelay,  
And still be mindful of the Bay.   Exeunt. 
FINIS.