Enter Mucedorus solus.
MUCEDORUS.
Unknown to any here within these woods,
With bloody Bremo do I lead my life.
The monster! he doth murther all he meets;
He spareth none, and none doth him escape.
Who would continue—who, but only I—
In such a cruel cut-throat’s company?
Yet Amadine is there, how can I choose?
Ah, silly soul! how oftentimes she sits
And sighs, and calls: Come, shepherd, come,
Sweet Mucedorus, come and set me free,
When Mucedorus present stands her by!
But here she comes.
Enter Amadine.
What news, fair lady, as you walk these woods?
AMADINE.
Ah, hermit! none but bad and such as thou know’st.
MUCEDORUS.
How do you like your Bremo and his woods?
AMADINE.
Oh, not my Bremo, nor my Bremo’s woods.
MUCEDORUS.
And why not yours? Methinks he loves you well.
AMADINE.
I like him not, his love to me is nothing worth.
MUCEDORUS.
Lady, in this, methinks, you offer wrong,
To hate the man that ever loves you best.