Phy. Indifferently well.
Io. I wish him better.
Phy. How?
Io. Vice-gerent in Hell.
Phy. Doest thou wish so for ought that he hath done?
Io. I, for the love he beares unto his sonne.
Phy. Hees growne of late as fatherly and milde
As ever father was unto his childe,
And sent me forth to search the coast about
If so my hap might be to finde him out;
And if Eurymine alive remaine
To bring them both vnto the Court againe.
Where is thy maister?
Io. Walking about the ground.
Phy. Oh that his Love Eurymine were found.
Io. Why, so she is; come follow me and see; He bring ye strait where they remaining bee.