_Io_. Heer's learning for the nonce that stands on ioynts; For all his cunning Ile scarse give two poynts. _Ara_. _Mercurio regnante virum, sub-sequente Luna Faeminum designat_. _Io_. Nay, and you go to Latin, then tis sure my maister shall finde her if he could tell where. _Ara_. I cannot tell what reason it should bee, But love and reason here doo disagree: By proofe of learned principles I finde The manner of your love's against all kinde; And, not to feede ye with uncertaine ioy, Whom you affect so much is but a Boy. _Io_. A Riddle for my life, some antick Iest? Did I not tell ye what his cunning was? _Asca_. I love a Boy? _Ara_. Mine art doth tell me so. _Asca_. Adde not a fresh increase vnto my woe. _Ara_. I dare avouch, what lately I have saide, The love that troubles you is for no maide. _Asca_. As well I might be said to touch the skie, Or darke the horizon with tapestrie, Or walke upon the waters of the sea, As to be haunted with such lunacie. _Ara_. If it be false mine Art I will defie. _Asca_. Amazed with grief my love is then transform'd. _Io_. Maister, be contented; this is leape yeare: Women weare breetches, petticoats are deare; And thats his meaning, on my life it is. _Asca_. Oh God, and shal my torments never cease? _Ara_. Represse the fury of your troubled minde; Walke here a while, your Lady you may finde. _Io_. A Lady and a Boy, this hangs wel together, Like snow in harvest, sun-shine and foule weather. _Enter Eurymine singing_. _Eu_. _Since[121] hope of helpe my froward starres denie, Come, sweetest death, and end my miserie; He left his countrie, I my shape have lost; Deare is the love that hath so dearly cost_. Yet can I boast, though _Phoebus_ were uniust, This shift did serve to barre him from his lust. But who are these alone? I cannot chuse But blush for shame that anyone should see _Eurymine_ in this disguise to bee. _Asca_. It is (is't[122] not?) my love _Eurymine_. _Eury_. Hark, some one hallows: gentlemen, adieu; In this attire I dare not stay their view. [_Exit_. _Asca_. My love, my ioy, my life! By eye, by face, by tongue it should be shee: Oh I, it was my love; Ile after her, And though she passe the eagle in her flight Ile never rest till I have gain'd her sight. [_Exit_. _Ara_. Love carries him and so retains his minde That he forgets how I am left behind. Yet will I follow softly, as I can, In hope to see the fortune of the man. [_Exit_. _Io_. Nay let them go, a Gods name, one by one; With all my heart I am glad to be alone. Here's old[123] transforming! would with all his art He could transform this tree into a tart: See then if I would flinch from hence or no; But, for it is not so, I needs must go. [_Exit_. _Enter Silvio and Gemulo_. _Sil_. Is it a bargaine _Gemulo_ or not?