of a man thou goest
Yet be the same _Eurymine_ thou wast.

_Eu_. How gladly would I be thy Lady still,
If earnest vowes might answere to my will.

_Asca_. And is thy fancie alterd with thy guise?

_Eu_. My kinde, but not my minde in any wise.

_Asca_. What though thy habit differ from thy kinde,
Thou maiest retain thy wonted loving minde.

_Eu_. And so I doo.

_Asca_. Then why art thou so straunge,
Or wherefore doth thy plighted fancie chaunge?

_Eu_. _Ascanio_, my heart doth honor thee.

_Asca_. And yet continuest stil so strange to me?

_Eu_. Not strange, so far as kind will give me leave.

_Asca_. Unkind that kind that kindnesse doth bereave:
Thou saist thou lovest me?

_Eu_. As a friend his friend,
And so I vowe to love thee to the end.

_Asca_. I wreake not of such love; love me but so
As faire _Eurymine_ loved _Ascanio_.

_Eu_. That love's denide vnto my present kinde.

_Asca_. In kindely shewes vnkinde I doo thee finde:
I see thou art as constant as the winde.

_Eu_. Doth kinde allow a man to love a man?

_Asca_. Why, art thou not _Eurymine_?

_Eu_. I am.

_Asca_. _Eurymine_ my love?

_Eu_. The very same.

_Asca_. And wast thou not a woman then?

_Eu_. Most true.

_Asca_. And art thou changed from a woman now?

_Eu_. Too true.

_Asca_. These tales my minde perplex.
Thou art _Eurymine_?

_Eu_. In name, but not in sexe.

_Asca_. What then?

_Eu_. A man.

_Asca_. In guise thou art, I see.

_Eu_. The guise thou seest doth with my kinde agree.

_Asca_. Before thy flight thou wast a woman tho?

_Eu_. True, _Ascanio_.

_Asca_. And since thou art a man?

_Eu_. Too true, deare friend.

_Asca_. Then I have lost a wife.

_Eu_. But found a friend whose dearest blood and life
Shal be as readie as thine owne for thee;
In place of wife such friend thou hast of mee.

_Enter Ioculo and Aramanthus_.

_Io_. There they are: maister, well overtane,
I thought we two should never meete againe:
You went so fast that I to follow thee
Slipt over hedge and ditch and many a tall tree.

_Ara_. Well said, my Boy: thou knowest not how to lie.

_Io_. To lye, Sir? how say you, was it not so?
You were at my heeles, though farre off, ye know.
For, maister, not to counterfayt with ye now,
Hee's as good a footeman as a shackeld sow.

_Asca_