Io. Ah, my sweet maister! nay, I can giue you as good words as you can giue me; alls one for that.
Asca. What canst thou giue me no reliefe?
Io. Faith, sir, there comes not one morsel of comfort from my lips to sustaine that hungry mawe of your miserie: there is such a dearth at this time. God amend it!
Asca. Ah, Ioculo, my brest is full of griefe, And yet my hope that only wants reliefe.
Io. Your brest and my belly are in two contrary kaies; you walke to get stomacke to your meate, and I walke to get meate to my stomacke; your brest's full and my belli's emptie. If they chance to part in this case, God send them merry meeting,—that my belly be ful and your brest empty.
Asca. Boy, for the loue that euer thou didst owe
To thy deare master, poore Ascanio.
Racke thy proou'd wits vnto the highest straine,
To bring me backe Eurymine againe.
Io. Nay, master, if wit could do it I could tell you more; but if it euer be done the very legeritie[103] of the feete must do it; these ten nimble bones must do the deed. Ile trot like a little dog; theres not a bush so big as my beard, but Ile be peeping in it; theres not a coate[104] but Ile search every corner; if she be aboue, or beneath, ouer the ground or vnder, Ile finde her out.
Asca. Stay, Ioculo; alas, it cannot be:
If we should parte I loose both her and thee.
The woods are wide; and, wandering thus about,
Thou maist be lost and not my loue found out.
Io. I pray thee let me goe.
Asca. I pray thee stay.