Sil. It is thy sense: thou art not of her kin, But as my Ryvall com'ste my Love to win.
Eu. By great Appollos sacred Deitie,
That shepheardesse so neare is Sib[124] to me
As I ne may (for all the world) her wed;
For she and I in one selfe wombe were bred.
But she is gone, her flocke is left to mee.
Ge. The shepcoat's mine and I will in and see.
Sil. And I.
[Exeunt Silvio and Gemulo.
Eu. Go both, cold comfort shall you finde:
My manly shape hath yet a womans minde,
Prone to reveale what secret she doth know.
God pardon me, I was about to show
My transformation: peace, they come againe.
Enter Silvio and Gemulo.
Sil. Have ye found her?
Ge. No, we looke in vaine.
Eu. I told ye so.