Aeneas, thinke not but I honor thee,
That thus in person goe with thee to hunt:
My princely robes thou seest are layd aside,
Whose glittering pompe Dianas
shrowdes supplies,
All fellowes now, disposde alike to sporte,
The woods are wide, and we have store of game:
Faire Troian, hold my golden bowe awhile,
Untill I gird my quiver to my side:
Lords goe before, we two must talke alone.
