Enter King, Pharamond, Arethusa, Galatea, Megra,
Dion, Cleremont, Thrasilin, and Attendants.
K. What, are the Hounds before, and all the woodmen?
Our horses ready, and our bows bent?
Di. All Sir.
King. Y'are cloudy Sir, come we have forgotten
Your venial trespass, let not that sit heavy
Upon your spirit; none dare utter it.
Di. He looks like an old surfeited Stallion after his leaping,
dull as a Dormouse: see how he sinks; the wench has shot
him between wind and water, and I hope sprung a leak.
Thra. He needs no teaching, he strikes sure enough; his
greatest fault is, he Hunts too much in the Purlues,
would he would leave off Poaching.
Di. And for his horn, has left it at the Lodge where he lay late; Oh, he's a precious Lime-hound; turn him loose upon the pursuit of a Lady, and if he lose her, hang him up i'th' slip. When my Fox-bitch Beauty grows proud, I'le borrow him.
King. Is your Boy turn'd away?
Are. You did command Sir, and I obey you.
King. 'Tis well done: Hark ye further.