Iris.  See how he catches to embrace the shade.

Mor.  This vision fully doth his powers inuade; And, when the heate shall but a little slake, Thou then shalt see him presently awake.

Som.  Hast thou ought else that I may stand in sted?

Iris.  No, Somnus, no; go back unto thy bed; Iuno, she shall reward thee for thy paine.

Som.  Then good night, Iris; Ile to rest againe.

Iris. Morpheus, farewell; to Iuno I will flie.

Mor.  And I to sleepe as fast as I can hie.

[Exeunt.

Ascanio starting sayes.

Eurymine!  Ah, my good Angell, stay! 
O vanish not so suddenly away;
O stay, my Goddess; whither doest thou flie? 
Returne, my sweet Eurymine, tis I.
Where art thou? speake; Let me behold thy face. 
Did I not see thee in this very place,
Euen now?  Here did I not see thee stand? 
And heere thy feete did blesse the happie land?
Eurymine, Oh wilt thou not attend? 
Flie from thy foe, Ascanio is thy friend: 
The fearfull hare so shuns the labouring hound,
And so the Dear eschues the Huntsman wound;
The trembling Foule so flies the Falcons gripe,
The Bond-man so his angry maisters 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 mee. 
But, if in dreames there any truth be found,
Thou art within the compas of this ground. 
Ile raunge the woods and all the groues about,
And neuer rest vntill I find thee out. [Exit.

    Enter at one doore Mopso singing.

Mop.  Terlitelo,[110] Terlitelo, tertitelee, terlo. 
       So merrily this sheapheards Boy
       His home that he can blow,
       Early in a morning, late, late in an euening;
       And euer sat this little Boy
       So merrily piping.

    Enter at the other doore Frisco singing.

Fris.  Can you blow the little home? 
        Weell, weell and very weell;
        And can you blow the little home
        Amongst the leaues greene?

    Enter Ioculo in the midst singing.

Io.  Fortune,[111] my foe, why doest thou frowne on mee? 
      And will my fortune neuer better bee? 
      Wilt thou, I say, for euer breed my paine,
      And wilt thou not restore my Ioyes againe?

Frisco.  Cannot a man be merry in his owne walke But a must be thus encombred?

Io.  I am disposed to be melancholly, And I cannot be priuate for one villaine or other.

Mop.  How the deuel stumbled this case of rope-ripes[112] into my way?

Fris.  Sirrha what art thou? and thou?