Accursed I in lingering life thus long!

In living thus, each minute of an hour Doth pierce my heart with darts of thousand deaths:

If she by flight her fury do escape, What will she think?

Will she not say--yea, flatly to my face, Accusing me of mere disloyalty--A trusty friend is tried in time of need, But I, when she in danger was of death And needed me, and cried, Segasto, help:

I turned my back and quickly ran away.

Unworthy I to bear this vital breath!

But what! what needs these plaints?

If Amadine do live, then happy I;

She will in time forgive and so forget:

Amadine is merciful, not Juno like, In harmful heart to harbor hatred long.

[Enter Mouse, the Clown, running, crying: clubs.]

MOUSE.

Clubs, prongs, pitchforks, bills! O help! a bear, a bear, a bear, a bear!

SEGASTO.

Still bears, and nothing else but bears. Tell me, sirrah, where she is.

MOUSE.

O sir, she is run down the woods: I see her white head and her white belly.

SEGASTO.

Thou talkest of wonders, to tell me of white bears.

But, sirra, didst thou ever see any such?

MOUSE.

No, faith, I never saw any such, but I remember my father's words: he bade me take heed I was not caught with a white bear.

SEGASTO.

A lamentable tale, no doubt.

MOUSE.