University of Virginia Library

Scene V.

—Another part of the Wood. Moonlight. Enter Margery.
Mar.
O moon, I love to be afraid, an' see
The elder-boughs all white, an' feel alone
With my big fear of every bush. The says
Will dance to-night, for all is blue and still;
There's not a little wind runs from its hole
To be a mouse among the trees.—Good Lord!
There's the black yew I never pass, because
I know 'tis dreadful underneath—I'll run!
Yes, there's the stone! Yes, yes—an' there are they
The honey-elves!

[Lies, and watches the fairies dance and sing.
Fairies.
In the moony brake
When we laugh and wake,
And our dance begins,
Violets hang their chins
Fast asleep—
While we laugh and leap.

Mar.
The little wingy circle spins about
So that I cannot see 'em in the gloom;
They might be made o' spider's gossamer.

Fairies.
Woodbine-leaves above,
Each a tiny dove,
Roost upon the bare
Winter stems, and there
Peaceful cling—
While we shout and sing.

Mar.
They've jumped the bonfire glow-worm. Here they come!
Soft! They will dance upon my hair as moss,
And I'll not scratch my head for all their toes.

Fairies.
On the rooty earth
Ferns of April's birth,
Brown and closely furled,
Doze like squirrels curled
Warm and still—
While we frisk our fill.

Mar.
Now I can see their scrimpèd kirtles green,
And swinging beads of dew about their necks;
They've not the pretty caps o' Midsummer,
Poor midges,—only cowslip-bells, o'er young,
That fall at every jerk, an' dirty cups
From acorns of last year.
I'll make my tiny peakèd bonnets red,
And see if they will pick 'em from the twigs.

Fairies.
Hark! our ears have caught
Sound of breath and snort
Near our beechen-tree,
Mixing carelessly!
Sprites away!
Fly as if 'twere day!

[Exeunt.
Mar.
They're gone! I heard a noise! Oh, oh, oh, oh!
If it should come from underneath the yew!

[Faints.
[Enter Wilfred, leading his horse.]
Wil.
By Cupid! 'tis my nut-brown maid enacts
The shrieking owl! I swore I'd find her here,
Watching for silly spirits of the night,
That never come at all. My simpleton,
My comely rustic fool, to be cajoled,
The pleasant way of forcing childishness.
Words be my only violence to win
A lusty little paramour. These churls
Are hoodwinked by the language of the great.
Each finger is an icicle to touch.
I'll wrap her in my cloak, fold her in fur,
Before I speak. She's a delicious heap.
My cosset!

Mar.
[starting].
Rosie!—Why, I'm not in bed!
[Discovering Wilfred]
Oh, Oh!

[sobs]
Wil.
My pretty maid, you're in my arms,
And I'm the knight to whom you told a tale
Or elfin pranks beneath the elder-trees,
Just on the strike of midnight. So I came
To see among the fairies which is fairest,
That I may give her gems and gold and love.
I see her!

Mar.
Sir, . . . I think they skipt away . . .
A moment back.

Wil.
But one was left behind.

Mar.
You only see some primroses.

Wil.
[aside].
'Tis thus
We win the city harlots; but to-night
I'm ineffectual.— [Aloud]
'Tis melancholy
Watching for pixies dressed in flow'ry bits—
Not much to see, if seen; while in the town
Are ladies trooping all in bodices
Of scarlet, jewel-lighted, with their locks
Caught in a golden web; and there they dance
With knights unarmed and rustling in silk.

Mar.
It must be brave to be in town!

Wil.
This dress
Is poor—it wants an edge of gold; the stuff
Is coarsely woven. If you'd come to town,
And let me love you, robes of red and white,
With golden fleur-de-lis all over them,
I'd give you, and a necklace of bright gold.

Mar.
It must be brave in town!

Wil.
Oh, but it is!

Mar.
I'd like to see it very much.

Wil.
And have
A pretty dress of red?

Mar.
I've got a cloak
At home. And this is my old dress.

Wil.
Poor wench!
You'd like to have a necklace of bright gold?

Mar.
Yes, sir; I've only got a string of eggs.

Wil.
Kiss me?

Mar.
They've told me to be coy with men.

Wil.
With foresters and peasants, not with knights;
You should do all a gentleman could ask.

Mar.
I'd rather not.

Wil.
Come, come!
You have not learnt respect, and if you'd have
A silken bodice, I must have a kiss.

Mar.
Silk!

Wil.
And with spangles on't.—My bait has ta'en;
The body's caught in raiment as a net.—
Kiss me?

Mar.
I've never kissed a man before.

Wil.
Then try how nice it is.

[Kisses her.
Mar.
I'd best go home.

Wil.
Nay, but the scarlet and the linen fine,
The broidery of wedded gems and gold,
The silken vest? Will you forget them all?

Mar.
I can't.

Wil.
Then will you come to town with me?

Mar.
Ye—s.

Wil.
Or I'll go, and you be left to wear
Coarse clothing all your life, and have no play
But watching leaves or pixies at their dance.

Mar.
I'll run home and put on my better frock.

Wil.
No; for we'll have you straightway dressed in white
A-glow with lilies.

Mar.
Lilies o' the vale?

Wil.
Oh, something larger. There, another kiss.
One, two—she cannot count them, so I'll take
An unrestricted measure.—Come this way.

[Exeunt.
[Re-enter Fairies.]
Fairies.
Silence! on the ground
Set the toadstools round,
Of these mortals twain
We to talk will deign,
Grave and wise,
Till the morning rise.