ff,
That I should meet with as I strayed this way.

_Io_. What lynes he drawes? best go not over farre.

_Asca_. Let me alone; thou doest but trouble mee.

_Io_. Youle trouble vs all annon, ye shall see.

_Asca_. God speed, faire Sir.

_Io_. My Lord, do ye not mark
How the skie thickens and begins to darke?

_Asca_. Health to ye, Sir.

_Io_. Nay, then, God be our speed.

_Ara_. Forgive me, Sir; I sawe ye not indeed.

_Asca_. Pardon me rather for molesting you.

_Io_. Such another face I never knew.

_Ara_. Thus, studious, I am wont to passe the time
By true proportion of each line from line.

_Io_. Oh now I see he was learning to spell:
Theres A. B. C. in midst of his table.

_Asca_. Tell me, I pray ye, sir, may I be bold to crave.
The cause of your abode within this cave?

_Ara_. To tell you that, in this extreme distresse,
Were but a tale of Fortunes ficklenesse.
Sometime I was a Prince of _Lesbos_ Ile
And liv'd beloved, whilst my good stars did smile;
But clowded once with this world's bitter crosse
My joy to grife, my gaine converts to losse.

_Asca_. Forward, I pray ye; faint not in your tale.

_Io_. It will not all be worth a cup of Ale.

_Ara_. A short discourse of that which is too long,
How ever pleasing, can never seeme but wrong;
Yet would my tragicke story fit the stage:
Pleasaunt in youth but wretched in mine age,
Blinde fortune setting vp and pulling downe,
Abusde by those my selfe raisde to renowne:
But that which wrings me neer and wounds my hart,
Is a false brothers base vnthankfull part.

_Asca_. A smal offence comparde with my disease;
No doubt ingratitude in time may cease
And be forgot: my grief out lives all howres,
Raining on my head continual, haplesse showers.

_Ara_. You sing of yours and I of mine relate,
To every one seemes worst his owne estate.
But to proceed: exiled thus by spight,
Both country I forgoe and brothers sight,
And comming hither, where I thought to live,
Yet here I cannot but lament and greeve.

_Asca_. Some comfort yet in this there doth remaine,
That you have found a partner in your paine.

_Ara_. How are your sorrowes subiect? let me heare.

_Asca_. More overthrowne and deeper in dispaire
Than is the manner of your heavie smart,
My carelesse griefe doth ranckle at my hart;
And, in a word to heare the summe of all,
I love and am beloved, but there-withall
The sweetnesse of that banquet must forgo,
Whose pleasant tast is chaungde with bi