_Som_. I would thou wert hangd for waking me. Three sonnes I haue; the eldest _Morpheus_ hight, He shewes of man the shape or sight; The second, _Icelor_, whose beheasts Doth shewe the formes of birds and beasts; _Phantasor_ for the third, things lifeles hee: Chuse which like thee of these three. _Iris_. _Morpheus_; if he in humane shape appeare. _Som_. _Morpheus_, come forth in perfect likenes heere Of--how call ye the Gentlewoman? _Iris. Eurymine_. _Som_. Of _Eurymine_; and shewe this Gentleman What of his mistres is become. (_Kneeling downe by Ascanio_.) _Enter Eurymine, to be supposed Morpheus_. _Mor_. My deare _Ascanio_, in this vision see _Eurymine_ doth thus appeare to thee. As soone as sleepe hath left thy drowsie eies Follow the path that on thy right hand lies: An aged Hermit thou by chaunce shalt find That there hath bene time almost out of mind, This holy man, this aged reuerent Father, There in the woods doth rootes and simples gather; His wrinckled browe tells strenghts past long ago, His beard as white as winters driuen snow. He shall discourse the troubles I haue past, And bring vs both together at the last Thus she presents her shadow to thy sight That would her person gladly if she might. _Iris_. See how he catches to embrace the shade. _Mor_. This vision fully doth his powers inuade; And, when the heate shall but a little slake, Thou then shalt see him presently awake. _Som_. Hast thou ought else that I may stand in sted? _Iris_. No, _Somnus_, no; go back unto thy bed; _Iuno_, she shall reward thee for thy paine. _Som_. Then good night, _Iris_; Ile to rest againe. _Iris_. _Morpheus_, farewell; to _Iuno_ I will flie. _Mor_. And I to sleepe as fast as I can hie. [_Exeunt_. _Ascanio starting sayes_. _Eurymine_! Ah, my good Angell, stay! O vanish not so suddenly away; O stay, my Goddess; whither doest thou flie? Returne, my sweet _Eurymine_, tis I. Where art thou? speake; Let me behold thy face. Did I not see thee in this very place, Euen now? Here did I not see thee stand? And heere thy feete did blesse the happie land? _Eurymine_, Oh wilt thou not attend? Flie from thy foe, _Ascanio_ is thy friend: The fearfull hare so shuns the labouring hound, And so the Dear eschues the Huntsman wound; The trembling Foule so flies the Falcons gripe, The Bond-man so his angry maisters stripe. I follow not as _Phoebus Daphne_ did, Nor as the Dog pursues the trembling Kid. Thy shape it was; alas, I saw not thee! That sight were fitter for the Gods then mee. But, if in dreames there any truth be found, Thou art within the compas of this ground. Ile raunge the woods and all the groues about, And neuer rest vntill I find thee out. [_Exit_. _Enter at one doore Mopso singing_.