Andel. Here’s one apple that grows highest, Agripyne; an’ I could reach that, I’ll come down. [Fishes with his girdle for it.
Agrip. Make haste, for the hot sun doth scald my cheeks.
Andel. The sun kiss thee? hold, catch, put on my hat, I will have yonder highest apple, though I die for’t.
Agrip. I had not wont be sun-burnt, wretched me.
O England, would I were again in thee! [Exit.
Andelocia leaps down.
Andel. ’Swounds, Agripyne, stay, Oh I am undone!
Sweet Agripyne, if thou hear’st my voice,
Take pity of me, and return again.
She flies like lightning: Oh she hears me not!
I wish myself into a wilderness,
And now I shall turn wild: here I shall famish,
Here die, here cursing die, here raving die,
And thus will wound my breast, and rend mine hair.
What hills of flint are grown upon my brows?
O me, two forkèd horns, I am turned beast,
I have abused two blessings, wealth and knowledge,
Wealth in my purse, and knowledge in my hat,
By which being borne into the courts of kings,
I might have seen the wondrous works of Jove,
Acquired experience, learning, wisdom, truth,
But I in wildness tottered out my youth,
And therefore must turn wild, must be a beast,
An ugly beast: my body horns must bear,
Because my soul deformity doth wear.
Lives none within this wood? If none but I
Live here,—thanks Heaven! for here none else shall die. [Lies down and sleeps under the tree.
Enter Fortune, Vice, Virtue, the Priest: and Satyrs with music, playing before Fortune.
Fortune. See where my new-turned devil has built his hell.