_1 Fr._ 'Twill be known. _Woo._ Alas Sir, where's your Daughter? _Jail._ Why do you ask? _Woo._ Oh Sir, when did you see her? _2 Fr._ How he looks! _Jail._ This morning. _Woo._ Was she well? was she in health Sir? when did she sleep? _1 Fr._ These are strange questions. _Jail._ I do not think she was very well, for now You make me mind her, but this very day I ask'd her questions, and she answer'd me So far from what she was, so childishly, So sillily, as if she were a fool, An Innocent, and I was very angry. But what of her Sir? _Woo._ Nothing but my pity, but you must know it, and as good by me As by another that less loves her: _Jail._ Well Sir. _1 Fr._ Not right? _2 Fr._ Not well?-- [_Woo._] No Sir, not well. 'Tis too true, she is mad. _1 Fr._ It cannot be. _Woo._ Believe, you'll find it so. _Jay._ I half suspected What you told me: the gods comfort her: Either this was her love to _Palamon_, Or fear of my miscarrying on his scape, Or both. _Woo._ 'Tis likely. _Jay._ But why all this haste, Sir? _Woo._ I'll tell you quickly. As I late was angling In the great Lake that lies behind the Palace, From the far shore, thick set with Reeds and Sedges. As patiently I was attending sport, I heard a voice, a shrill one, and attentive I gave my ear, when I might well perceive 'Twas one that sung, and by the smallness of it A Boy or Woman. I then left my angle To his own skill, came near, but yet perceiv'd not Who made the sound; the Rushes, and the Reeds Had so encompast it: I laid me down And listned to the words she sung, for then Through a small glade cut by the Fisher-men, I saw it was your Daughter. _Jail._ Pray goe on Sir? _Woo._ She sung much, but no sence; only I heard her Repeat this often. _Palamon_ is gone, Is gone to th' wood to gather Mulberries, I'll find him out to morrow. _1 Fr._ Pretty soul.