to their hollow throates:
Garlands beside they weare upon their browes,
Made of all sorts of flowers earth allowes,
From whence such fragrant sweet perfumes arise
As you would sweare that place is Paradise.
To them let us repaire with humble hart,
And meekly show the manner of your smart:
So gratious are they in _Apollos_ eies
As their intreatie quickly may suffice
In your behalfe. Ile tell them of your states
And crave their aides to stand your advocates.

_Asca_. For ever you shall bind us to you than.

_Ara_. Come, go with me; Ile doo the best I can.

_Io_. Is not this hard luck, to wander so long
And in the end to finde his wife markt wrong!

_Enter Phylander_.

_Phy_. A proper iest as ever I heard tell!
In sooth me thinkes the breech becomes her well;
And might it not make their husbands feare them[127]
Wold all the wives in our town might weare them.
Tell me, youth, art a straunger here or no?

_Io_. Is your commission, sir, to examine me so?

_Phy_. What, is it thou? now, by my troth, wel met.

_Io_. By your leave it's well overtaken yet.

_Phy_. I litle thought I should a found thee here.

_Io_. Perhaps so, sir.

_Phy_. I prethee speake: what cheere?

_Io_. What cheere can here be hopte for in these woods,
Except trees, stones, bryars, bushes or buddes?

_Phy_. My meaning is, I fane would heare thee say
How thou doest, man: why, thou tak'st this another way.

_Io_. Why, then, sir, I doo as well as I may:
And, to perswade ye that welcome ye bee,
Wilt please ye sir to eate a crab with mee?

_Phy_. Beleeve me, _Ioculo_, reasonable hard cheere.

_Io_. _Phylander_, tis the best we can get here.
But when returne ye to the court againe?

_Phy_. Shortly, now I have found thee.

_Io_. To requite your paine
Shall I intreat you beare a present from me?

_Phy_. To whom?

_Io_. To the Duke.

_Phy_. What shall it be?

_Io_. Because Venson so convenient doth not fall,
A pecke of Acornes to make merry withal.

_Phy_. What meanst thou by that?

_Io_. By my troth, sir, as ye see,
Acornes are good enough for such as hee.
I wish his honour well, and to doo him good,
Would he had eaten all the acorns in the wood.

_Phy_. Good word, _Ioculo_, of your Lord and mine.

_Io_. As may agree with such a churlish swine.
How dooes his honor?

_Phy_. Indifferently well.

_Io_