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?

_Bell_. Oh my Noble Lord,
View my strange fortune, and bestow on me,
According to your bounty (if my service
Can merit nothing) so much as may serve
To keep that little piece I hold of life
From cold and hunger.

_Phi_. Is it thou? be gone:
Go sell those misbeseeming Cloaths thou wear'st,
And feed thy self with them.

_Bell_. Alas! my Lord, I can get nothing for them:
The silly Country people think 'tis Treason
To touch such gay things.

_Phi_. Now by my life this is
Unkindly done, to vex me with thy sight,
Th'art fain again to thy dissembling trade:
How should'st thou think to cozen me again?
Remains there yet a plague untri'd for me?
Even so thou wept'st and spok'st when first