_Io_. Why, then, sir, I doo as well as I may: And, to perswade ye that welcome ye bee, Wilt please ye sir to eate a crab with mee? _Phy_. Beleeve me, _Ioculo_, reasonable hard cheere. _Io_. _Phylander_, tis the best we can get here. But when returne ye to the court againe? _Phy_. Shortly, now I have found thee. _Io_. To requite your paine Shall I intreat you beare a present from me? _Phy_. To whom? _Io_. To the Duke. _Phy_. What shall it be? _Io_. Because Venson so convenient doth not fall, A pecke of Acornes to make merry withal. _Phy_. What meanst thou by that? _Io_. By my troth, sir, as ye see, Acornes are good enough for such as hee. I wish his honour well, and to doo him good, Would he had eaten all the acorns in the wood. _Phy_. Good word, _Ioculo_, of your Lord and mine. _Io_. As may agree with such a churlish swine. How dooes his honor? _Phy_. Indifferently well. _Io_. I wish him better. _Phy_. How? _Io_. Vice-gerent in Hell. _Phy_. Doest thou wish so for ought that he hath done? _Io_. I, for the love he beares unto his sonne. _Phy_. Hees growne of late as fatherly and milde As ever father was unto his childe, And sent me forth to search the coast about If so my hap might be to finde him out; And if _Eurymine_ alive remaine To bring them both vnto the Court againe. Where is thy maister? _Io_. Walking about the ground. _Phy_. Oh that his Love _Eurymine_ were found. _Io_. Why, so she is; come follow me and see; He bring ye strait where they remaining bee. [_Exeunt_. _Enter three or foure Muses, Aramanthus, Ascanio, Silvio, and Gemulo_. _Asca_. Cease your contention for _Eurymine_, Nor word nor vowes can helpe her miserie; But he it is, that did her first transform, Must calme the gloomy rigor of this storme, Great _Phoebus_ whose pallace we are neere. Salute him, then, in his celestiall sphere, That with the notes of cheerful harmonie He may be mov'd to shewe his Deitie. _Sil_. But wheres _Eurymine_? have we lost her sight? _As_. Poore soule! within a cave, with feare affright, She sits to shun _Appollos_ angry view Until she sees what of our prayers ensue, If we can reconcile his love or no, Or that she must continue in her woe. 1 _Mu_. Once have we tried, _Ascanio_, for thy sake, And once againe we will his power awake, Not doubting but, as he is of heavenly race, At length he will take pitie on her case. Sing therefore, and each partie, from his heart, In this our musicke beare a chearfull part. SONG. _All haile, faire Phoebus, in thy purple throne! Vouchsafe the regarding of our deep mone; Hide not, oh hide not, thy comfortable face, But pittie, but pittie, a virgins poore case_. _Phoebus appeares_.