_Bo._ Mistris, it grows somewhat pretty and dark.
_Ger._ What then?
_Bo._ Nay, nothing; do not think I am afraid,
Although perhaps you are.
_Ger._ I am not, forward.
_Bo._ Sure but you are? give me your hand, fear nothing.
There's one leg in the wood, do not pull me backward:
What a sweat one on's are in, you or I?
Pray God it do not prove the plague; yet sure
It has infected me; for I sweat too,
It runs out at my knees, feel, feel, I pray you.
_Ger._ What ails the fellow?
_Bo._ Hark, hark I beseech you,
Do you hear nothing?
_Ger._ No.
_Bo._ List: a wild Hog,
He grunts: now 'tis a Bear: this wood is full of 'em,
And now, a Wolf, Mistress, a Wolf, a Wolf,
It is the howling of a Wolf.
_Ger._ The braying of an Ass, is it not?
_Bo._ Oh, now one has me;
Oh my left haunch, farewel.
_Ger._ Look to your Shanks,
Your Breech is safe enough, the Wolf's a Fern-brake.
_Bo._ But see, see, see, there is a Serpent in it;
It has eyes as broad as Platters; it spits fire;
Now it creeps towards us, help me to say my Prayers:
It hath swallowed me almost, my breath is stopt;
I cannot speak: do I speak Mistress? tell me.
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