(They both looke straungely upon her, apart each from other.)

Ge.  What, hath my Love a new come Lover than?

Sil.  What, hath my mistresse got another man?

Ge.  This Swayne will rob me of Eurymine.

Sil.  This youth hath power to win Eurymine.

Ge.  This straungers beautie beares away my prize.

Sil.  This straunger will bewitch her with his eies.

Ge.  It is Adonis.

Sil.  It is Ganymede.

Ge.  My blood is chill.

Sil.  My hearte is colde as Leade.

Eu.  Faire youthes, you have forgot for what ye came:  You seeke your Love, shee’s gone.

Ge.  The more to blame.

Eu.  Not so; my sister had no will to go But that our parents dread commaund was so.

Sil.  It is thy sense:  thou art not of her kin, But as my Ryvall com’ste my Love to win.

Eu.  By great Appollos sacred Deitie,
That shepheardesse so neare is Sib[124] to me
As I ne may (for all the world) her wed;
For she and I in one selfe wombe were bred. 
But she is gone, her flocke is left to mee.

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 finde: 
My manly shape hath yet a womans minde,
Prone to reveale what secret she doth know. 
God pardon me, I was about to show
My transformation:  peace, they come againe.

    Enter Silvio and Gemulo.

Sil.  Have ye found her?

Ge.  No, we looke in vaine.

Eu.  I told ye so.

Ge.  Yet heare me, new come Swayne. 
Albe thy seemly feature set no sale
But honest truth vpon thy novell tale,
Yet (for this world is full of subtiltee)
We wish ye go with vs for companie
Unto a wise man wonning[125] in this wood,
Hight Aramanth, whose wit and skill is good,
That he may certifie our mazing doubt
How this straunge chaunce and chaunge hath fallen out.

Eu.  I am content; have with ye when ye will.

Sil.  Even now.

Eu.  Hee’le make ye muse if he have any skill.

[Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

    Enter Ascanio and Eurymine.

Asca. Eurymine, I pray, if thou be shee,
Refraine thy haste and doo not flie from mee. 
The time hath bene my words thou would’st allow
And am I growne so loathsome to thee now?

Eu. Ascanio, time hath bene, I must confesse,
When in thy presence was my happinesse,
But now the manner of my miserie
Hath chaung’d that course that so it cannot be.