Phi. Blessing be with thee,
What ever thou deserv'st. Oh, where shall I
Go bath thy body? Nature too unkind,
That made no medicine for a troubled mind!
[Exit. Phi.
Enter Arethuse.
Are. I marvel my boy comes not back again;
But that I know my love will question him
Over and over; how I slept, wak'd, talk'd;
How I remembred him when his dear name
Was last spoke, and how, when I sigh'd, wept, sung,
And ten thousand such; I should be angry at his stay.
[_Enter _King.
King. What are your meditations? who attends you?
Are. None but my single self, I need no Guard, I do no wrong, nor fear none.
King. Tell me: have you not a boy?
Are. Yes Sir.
King. What kind of boy?