Scena Prima.
Enter Seberto, Curio.
Seb.
NOw, o' my conscience, we have lost him utterly,
He's not gone home: we heard from thence this morning,
And since our parting last at Roderigo's
You know what ground we have travel'd.
Cur.
He's asleep sure?
For if he had been awake, we should have met with him:
'Faith let's turn back, we have but a fruitless journey;
And to hope further of Alindas recovery,
(For sure she'l rather perish than return)
Is but to seek a Moth i'th' Sun.
Seb.
We'l on sure;
Something we'l know, some cause of all this fooling,
Make some discovery.
Cur.
Which way shall we cast then,
For all the Champion Country, and the villages,
And all those sides?
Seb.
We'l cross these woods awhile then:
Here if we fail, we'l gallop to Segovia.
And if we light of no news there, hear nothing;
We'l even turn fairly home, and coast the other side.
Cur.
He may be sick, or faln into some danger;
He has no guide, nor no man to attend him.
Seb.
He's well enough, he has a travel'd body,
And though he be old, he's tough, and will endure well;
But he is so violent to finde her out,
That his anger leads him a thousand wild-goose chases:
I'le warrant he is well.
Cur.
Shall we part company?
Seb.
By no means, no: that were a sullen bus ness:
No pleasure in our journey: come, let's cross here first,
And where we find the paths, let them direct us.
Exeu••t.