_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 Womens looks; but dig'd my self a Cave, Where I, my Fire, my Cattel, and my Bed Might have been shut together in one shed; And then had taken me some Mountain Girl, Beaten with Winds, chast as the hardened Rocks Whereon she dwells; that might have strewed my Bed With leaves, and Reeds, and with the Skins of beasts Our Neighbours; and have born at her big breasts My large course issue. This had been a life free from vexation.
_Bell_. Oh wicked men! An innocent man may walk safe among beasts, Nothing assaults me here. See, my griev'd Lord Sits as his soul were searching out a way, To leave his body. Pardon me that must Break thy last commandment; For I must speak; You that are griev'd can pity; hear my Lord.
_Phi_. Is there a Creature yet so miserable, That I can pity?
_Bell_. Oh my Noble Lord, View my strange fortune, and bestow on me, 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.
_Phi_. Is it thou? be gone: Go sell those misbeseeming Cloaths thou wear'st, And feed thy self with them.
_Bell_. Alas! my Lord, I can get nothing for them: The silly Country people think 'tis Treason To touch such gay things.
_Phi_. Now by my life this is Unkindly done, to vex me with thy sight, Th'art fain again to thy dissembling trade: How should'st thou think to cozen me again? Remains there yet a plague untri'd for me? Even so thou wept'st and spok'st when first I took thee up; curse on the time. If thy Commanding tears can work on any other, Use thy art, I'le not betray it. Which way Wilt thou take, that I may shun thee; For thine eyes are poyson to mine; and I Am loth to grow in rage. This way, or that way?
_Bell_. Any will serve. But I will chuse to have That path in chase that leads unto my grave.
_Di_. This is the strangest sudden change! You _Woodman_.
_Di_. Saw you a Lady come this way on a Sable-horse stubbed with stars of white?
_Di_. Yes; Rode she to the wood, or to the plain?
_Di_. Pox of your questions then. What, is she found?
_Di_. 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.