FRAN. Peace, a pox on thee!
COOMES. Swounds, somebody spake.
MRS GOUR. Dick, look about;
It may be here we may find them out.
COOMES. I see the glimpse[359] of somebody here.—
And ye be a sprite, I'll fray the bugbear.—
There a-goes, mistress.
MRS GOUR. O, sir, have I spied you?
FRAN. A plague on the boy! 'was he that descried[360] me.
[Exeunt.
[Enter PHILIP.]
PHIL. How like a beautous lady mask'd in black
Looks that same large circumference of heaven!
The sky, that was so fair three hours ago,
Is in three hours become an Ethiop;
And being angry at her beauteous change,
She will not have one of those pearled stars
To blab her sable metamorphosis:[361]
'Tis very dark. I did appoint my sister
To meet me at the coney-borough below,
And Francis too; but neither can I see.
Belike my mother happ'ned on that place,
And fray'd them from it, and they both are now
Wand'ring about the[362] fields: how shall I find them?
It is so dark, I scarce can see my hand:
Why, then, I'll hollow for them—no, not so;
So will his voice betray him to our mothers,
And if he answer, and bring them where he is.
What shall I then do? it must not be so—
'Sblood,[363] it must be so; how else, I pray?
Shall I stand gaping here all night till day,
And then be ne'er the near?[364] So ho, so ho!
[Enter WILL.]