Fris. I am not sorie for it; farewell, Ioculo.
[Exit.
Io. I may goe with thee, for I shall speed even so too by staying behinde.
Aram. Better, my Boy, thou shalt thy maister finde
And he shall finde the partie he requires,
And yet not find the summe of his desires.
Keep on that way; thy maister walkes before,
Whom, when thou findst, loose him good Boy no more.
[Exit ambo.
Actus Quartus.
Enter Ascanio and Ioculo.
Asca. Shall then my travell ever endles prove,
That I can heare no tydings of my Love?
In neither desart, grove, nor shadie wood
Nor obscure thicket where my foote hath trod?
But every plough-man and rude shepheard swain
Doth still reply unto my greater paine?
Some Satyre, then, or Godesse of this place,
Some water Nymph vouchsafed me so much grace
As by some view, some signe, or other sho,
I may haue knowledge if she lives or no.
Eccho. No.
Asca. Then my poore hart is buried too in wo: Record it once more if the truth be so.
Eccho. So.