_Bell_. Oh what God Angry with men, hath sent this strange disease Into the noblest minds? Madam this grief You add unto me is no more than drops To seas, for which they are not seen to swell; My Lord had struck his anger through my heart, And let out all the hope of future joyes, You need not bid me fly, I came to part, To take my latest leave, Farewel for ever; I durst not run away in honesty, From such a Lady, like a boy that stole, Or made some grievous fault; the power of gods Assist you in your sufferings; hasty time Reveal the truth to your abused Lord, And mine: That he may know your worth: whilst I Go seek out some forgotten place to die. [_Exit_ Bell. _Are_. Peace guide thee, th'ast overthrown me once, Yet if I had another _Troy_ to lose, Thou or another villain with thy looks, Might talk me out of it, and send me naked, My hair dishevel'd through the fiery streets. [ _Enter a_ Lady _La_. Madam, the King would hunt, and calls for you With earnestness. _Are_. I am in tune to hunt! _Diana_ if thou canst rage with a maid, As with a man, let me discover thee Bathing, and turn me to a fearful Hind, That I may die pursu'd by cruel Hounds, And have my story written in my wounds. [_Exeunt_. _Actus Quartus. Scena Prima_. _Enter_ King, Pharamond, Arethusa, Galatea, Megra, Dion, Cleremont, Thrasilin, _and Attendants_. _K_. What, are the Hounds before, and all the woodmen? Our horses ready, and our bows bent? _Di_. All Sir. _King_. Y'are cloudy Sir, come we have forgotten Your venial trespass, let not that sit heavy Upon your spirit; none dare utter it. _Di_. He looks like an old surfeited Stallion after his leaping, dull as a Dormouse: see how he sinks; the wench has shot him between wind and water, and I hope sprung a leak. _Thra_. He needs no teaching, he strikes sure enough; his greatest fault is, he Hunts too much in the Purlues, would he would leave off Poaching. _Di_. And for his horn, has left it at the Lodge where he lay late; Oh, he's a precious Lime-hound; turn him loose upon the pursuit of a Lady, and if he lose her, hang him up i'th' slip. When my Fox-bitch Beauty grows proud, I'le borrow him.