in a house not far off, servants, who though they came not uncalled, yet at call were ready. And so many days were spent, and many ways used, while Zelmane was like one that stood in a tree waiting a good occasion to shoot, and Gynecia a blancher, which kept the dearest deer from her. But the day being come, on which according to an appointed course, the shepherds were to assemble and make their pastoral sports before Basilius, Zelmane, fearing lest many eyes, and coming divers ways, might hap to espy Musidorus, went out to warn him thereof. But before she could come to the arbour, she saw walking from her-ward, a man in shepherdish apparel, who being in the sight of the lodge, it might seem he was allowed there. A long cloak he had on, but that cast under his right arm, wherein he held a sheep hook so finely wrought, that it gave a bravery to poverty, and his raiments though they were mean, yet received they handsomeness by the grace of the wearer, though he himself went but a kind of languishing pace, with his eyes sometimes cast up to heaven as though his fancies strove to mount higher; sometimes thrown down to the ground, as if the earth could not bear the burden of his sorrows; at length, with a lamentable tune, he sung those few verses. Come shepherd’s weeds, become your master’s mind: Yield outward show, what inward change he tries: Nor be abash’d, since such a guest you find, Whose strongest hope in your weak comfort lies. Come shepherd’s weeds, attend my woeful cries: Disuse yourselves from sweet Menalcas’ voice: For other be those tunes which sorrow ties, From those clear notes which freely may rejoice. Then pour out plaint, and in one word say this: Helpless is plaint, who spoils himself of bliss.