AMADINE. God grant my long delay procures no harm,
Nor this my tarrying frustrate my pretence.
My Mucedorus surely stays for me,
And thinks me over long. At length I come,
My present promise to perform.
Ah, what a thing is firm, unfeigned love!
What is it which true love dares not attempt?
My father he may make, but I must match;
Segasto loves; but Amadine must like,
Where likes her best; compulsion is a thrall.
No, no, the hearty choice is all in all,
The shepherd's virtue Amadine esteems.
But what, methinks my shepherd is not come;
I muse at that, the hour is sure at hand.
Well, here I'll rest, till Mucedorus come.
[_She sits her down.
Enter_ BREMO, looking about; hastily [he] taketh hold of her.
BREMO. A happy prey! now, Bremo, feed on flesh:
Dainties, Bremo, dainties, thy hungry paunch to fill:
Now glut thy greedy guts with lukewarm blood.
Come, fight with me; I long to see thee dead.
AMADINE. How can she fight, that weapons cannot wield?
BREMO. What, canst not fight? Then lie thou down and die.
AMADINE. What, must I die?
BREMO. What needs these words? I thirst to suck thy blood.
AMADINE. Yet pity me, and let me live awhile.
BREMO. No pity I; I'll feed upon thy flesh,
I'll tear thy body piecemeal joint from joint.
AMADINE. Ah, how I want my shepherd's company!