[Horns, or hunting-music, within.]
Enter Diana.
Dia. With horns and with hounds, I waken the day,
And hie to the woodland-walks away;
I tuck up my robe, and am buskined soon,
And tie to my forehead a wexing moon.
I course the fleet stag, unkennel the fox,
And chace the wild goats o'er summits of rocks;
With shouting and hooting we pierce through the sky,
And Echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry.