she did intend confession At Patrick's cell this even; and there she was not; These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence. Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse, But mount you presently and meet with me Upon the rising of the mountain-foot That leads towards Mantua, whither they are fled: Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl, That flies her fortune when it follows her. I'll after, more to be revenged on Eglamour Than for the love of reckless Silvia. And I will follow, more for Silvia's love Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her. And I will follow, more to cross that love Than hate for Silvia that is gone for love. Come, come, Be patient; we must bring you to our captain. A thousand more mischances than this one Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently. Come, bring her away. Outlaw Where is the gentleman that was with her? Being nimble-footed, he hath outrun us, But Moyses and Valerius follow him. Go thou with her to the west end of the wood; There is our captain: we'll follow him that's fled; The thicket is beset; he cannot 'scape. Come, I must bring you to our captain's cave: Fear not; he bears an honourable mind, And will not use a woman lawlessly. O Valentine, this I endure for thee! How use doth breed a habit in a man! This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, I better brook than flourishing peopled towns: Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, And to the nightingale's complaining notes Tune my distresses and record my woes. O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, Leave not the mansion so long tenantless, Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall And leave no memory of what it was! Repair me with thy presence, Silvia; Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain! What halloing and what stir is this to-day? These are my mates, that make their wills their law, Have some unhappy passenger in chase. They love me well; yet I have much to do To keep them from uncivil outrages. Withdraw thee, Valentine: who's this comes here? Madam, this service I have done for you, Though you respect not aught your servant doth, To hazard life and rescue you from him That would have forced your honour and your love; Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look; A smaller boon than this I cannot beg And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give. How like a dream is this I see and hear!