_Ara_. To tell you that, in this extreme distresse, Were but a tale of Fortunes ficklenesse. Sometime I was a Prince of _Lesbos_ Ile And liv'd beloved, whilst my good stars did smile; But clowded once with this world's bitter crosse My joy to grife, my gaine converts to losse. _Asca_. Forward, I pray ye; faint not in your tale. _Io_. It will not all be worth a cup of Ale. _Ara_. A short discourse of that which is too long, How ever pleasing, can never seeme but wrong; Yet would my tragicke story fit the stage: Pleasaunt in youth but wretched in mine age, Blinde fortune setting vp and pulling downe, Abusde by those my selfe raisde to renowne: But that which wrings me neer and wounds my hart, Is a false brothers base vnthankfull part. _Asca_. A smal offence comparde with my disease; No doubt ingratitude in time may cease And be forgot: my grief out lives all howres, Raining on my head continual, haplesse showers. _Ara_. You sing of yours and I of mine relate, To every one seemes worst his owne estate. But to proceed: exiled thus by spight, Both country I forgoe and brothers sight, And comming hither, where I thought to live, Yet here I cannot but lament and greeve. _Asca_. Some comfort yet in this there doth remaine, That you have found a partner in your paine. _Ara_. How are your sorrowes subiect? let me heare. _Asca_. More overthrowne and deeper in dispaire Than is the manner of your heavie smart, My carelesse griefe doth ranckle at my hart; And, in a word to heare the summe of all, I love and am beloved, but there-withall The sweetnesse of that banquet must forgo, Whose pleasant tast is chaungde with bitter wo. _Ara_. A conflict but to try your noble minde; As common vnto youth as raine to winde. _Asca_. But hence it is that doth me treble wrong, Expected good that is forborne so long Doth loose the vertue which the vse would prove. _Ara_. Are you then, sir, despised of your Love? _Asca_. No; but deprived of her company, And for my careles negligence therein Am bound to doo this penaunce for my sin; That, if I never finde where she remaines, I vowe a yeare shal be my end of paines. _Ara_. Was she then lost within this forrest here? _Asca_. Lost or forlorn, to me she was right deere: And this is certaine; vnto him that could The place where she abides to me vnfold For ever I would vow my selfe his friend, Never revolting till my life did end. And there fore, sir (as well I know your skill) If you will give me physicke for this ill And shewe me if _Eurymine_ do live, It were a recompence for all my paine, And I should thinke my ioyes were full againe. _Ara_. They know the want of health that have bene sick: My selfe, sometimes acquainted with the like, Do learne in dutie of a kinde regard To pittie him whose hap hath bene so hard, How long, I pray ye, hath she absent bene? _Asca_. Three days it is since that my Love was seene.