_1 Wood_. He shall Shoot in a Stone-bow for me. I never lov'd his beyond-sea-ship, since he forsook the Say, for paying Ten shillings: he was there at the fall of a Deer, and would needs (out of his mightiness) give Ten groats for the Dowcers; marry the Steward would have had the Velvet-head into the bargain, to Turf his Hat withal: I think he should love Venery, he is an old Sir _Tristram_; for if you be remembred, he forsook the Stagg once, to strike a Rascal Milking in a Medow, and her he kill'd in the eye. Who shoots else? _2 Wood_. The Lady _Galatea_. _1 Wood_. That's a good wench, and she would not chide us for tumbling of her women in the Brakes. She's liberal, and by my Bow they say she's honest, and whether that be a fault, I have nothing to do. There's all? _2 Wood_. No, one more, _Megra_. _1 Wood_. That's a firker I'faith boy; there's a wench will Ride her Haunces as hard after a Kennel of Hounds, as a Hunting-saddle; and when she comes home, get 'em clapt, and all is well again. I have known her lose her self three times in one Afternoon (if the Woods had been answerable) and it has been work enough for one man to find her, and he has sweat for it. She Rides well, and she payes well. Hark, let's go. [_Exeunt_. _Enter_ Philaster. _Phi_. Oh, that I had been nourished in these woods With Milk of Goats, and Acorns, and not known The right of Crowns, nor the dissembling Trains Of Womens looks; but dig'd my self a Cave, Where I, my Fire, my Cattel, and my Bed Might have been shut together in one shed; And then had taken me some Mountain Girl, Beaten with Winds, chast as the hardened Rocks Whereon she dwells; that might have strewed my Bed With leaves, and Reeds, and with the Skins of beasts Our Neighbours; and have born at her big breasts My large course issue. This had been a life free from vexation. [ _Enter_ Bellario. _Bell_. Oh wicked men! An innocent man may walk safe among beasts, Nothing assaults me here. See, my griev'd Lord Sits as his soul were searching out a way, To leave his body. Pardon me that must Break thy last commandment; For I must speak; You that are griev'd can pity; hear my Lord. _Phi_. Is there a Creature yet so miserable, That I can pity?