_Flo._ In faith, sweete Clinias, I cannot knowe you. [F. 73v rev.]

_Dor._ Noe, knowe, but did you see the white Narcisse?

_Clo._ The whitest man alive a huntinge is; Hee that doth looke farre whiter then the vilett, Or moone at midday, or els skye at twilight.

_Cli._ That is the same, even that is that Narcissus, Hee that hath love despis'd, & scorned vs.

_Flo._ Not you alone hee scornes, but vs also; O doe not greive when maids part stakes in woe.

O, that same youthe's the sc.u.mmer of all skorne, [440]

Of surquedry the very shooing horne, Piller of pride, casting topp of contempt, Stopple of statelines for takinge vente.

Many youthes, many maids sought him to gaine, Noe youthes, noe maids could ever him obtaine: Then thus I pray, & hands to heaven vpp leave, So may hee love & neare his love atcheive.

Looke you for maids no more, our parte is done, Wee come but to bee scornd, & so are gone. [_Exeunt_.

_Dor._ But wee have more to doe, that have wee perdie, [450]

Wee must a fish & hunt the hare so hardye, For even as after hare runnes swiftest beagle, So doth Narcissus our poore harts corneagle. [_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ ECCHO.

Who, why, wherfore, from whence or what I am, [F. 73r rev.]

Knowe, if you aske, that Eccho is my name, That cannott speake a woord, nor halfe a sillable, Vnles you speake before so intelligible.

But ho, the hobby horse, youle think 't absurde That I should of my selfe once speake a woord.

'Tis true; but lett your wisdomes tell me than [460]

How'de you know Eccho from another man?

I was a well toung'd nimphe, but what of that?

My mother Juno still to hold in chatte, With tales of tubbes, from thence I ever strove, Whiles nimphes abroad lay allwaies vnder Jove.

But oh, when drift was spied, my angry grammer Made ever since my tottering tongue to stammer; And now, in wild woods, & in moist mountaines, In high, tall valleys, & in steepye plaines, Eccho I live, Eccho, surnam'd the dolefull, [470]

That, in remembrance, now could weepe a bowlfull; Or rather, if you will, Eccho the sorrowfull, That, in remembrance, now could weepe a barrowfull.

(_Within. Yolp! yolpe!_) [_Exit clamans Yolpe!_

_Enter_ DORASTUS, NARCISSUS, CLINIAS.

_Cantantes._

Harke, they crye, I heare by that The doggs have putt the hare from quatte, Then woe bee vnto little Watt, [F. 72v rev.]

Yolp, yolp, yolp, yolp!

Hollowe in the hind doggs, hollowe, So come on then, solla, solla, And lett vs so blithly followe, [480]

Yolp, &c.

O, the doggs ar out of sight, But the crye is my delight; Harke how Jumball hitts it right, Yolp, &c.

Over briars, over bushes; Whose affeard of p.r.i.c.ks & pushes, Hee's no hunter woorth two rushes, Yolp, &c.

But how long thus shall wee wander? [490]

O, the hares a l.u.s.ty stander, Follow apace, the doggs are yonder, Yolp, &c. [_Exeunt._

_Enter one with a buckett and boughes and gra.s.se._

A well there was withouten mudd, Of silver hue, with waters cleare, Whome neither sheepe that chawe the cudd, Shepheards nor goates came ever neare; Whome, truth to say, nor beast nor bird, Nor windfalls yet from trees had stirrde.

[_He strawes the gra.s.se about the buckett._ And round about it there was gra.s.se, [F. 72r rev.] [500]

As learned lines of poets showe, Which by next water nourisht was; [_Sprinkle water._ Neere to it too a wood did growe, [_Sets down the bowes._ To keep the place, as well I wott, With too much sunne from being hott.

And thus least you should have mistooke it, The truth of all I to you tell: Suppose you the well had a buckett, And so the buckett stands for the well; And 'tis, least you should counte mee for a sot O, [510]

A very pretty figure cald _pars pro toto_. [_Exit._

_Enter_ DORASTUS, ECCHO _answeringe him within_.

_Dor._ Narcissus?

_Ecc._ Kisse us.

Kisse you; who are you, with a botts take you?

Botts take you.

Botts take mee, you rogue?

You rogue.

Slidd, hee retortes woord for woord.

Woord for woord.

Clinias, prethy, where art thou, Clinias? [520]

In, yee a.s.se.

In where--in a ditch?

Itch.

What is his businesse? [F. 71v rev.]

At his businesse.

You don't tell mee trulye.

You lye.

Say so againe, ile cudgell you duely.

You doe lye.

Of your tearmes you are very full. [530]

Your a very foole.

Doe you crowe, I shall cracke your c.o.xcombe.

c.o.xcombe.

I shall make you whine & blubber.

Lubber.

Youle make an end & dispatch.

Patch.

Goe to, youle let these woordes pa.s.se.

a.s.se.

If I come to you Ile make you singe a palinodye. [540]

Noddye.

Foole, c.o.xcombe, lubber, patch, & noddye, Are these good woords to give a bodye?

Doe not provoke me, I shall come.

Come.

Meete mee if you dare.

If you dare.

I come, despaire not.

Spare not. [_Exit._