The Hunting of Badlewe | ||
40
SCENE IV.
—Another part of the Forest.Enter March, musing.
Mar.
If these sleek menials may be believed,
Who waste and riot in yon gaudy tents,
Then I am sore misled, and this gay band
Are not the men I seek.—I'll not believe't:
Plain circumstance and reason both agree
In pointing their retreat. I will not hence
Till I have seen them face to face, and heard
Each yeoman's voice. Not all their borrowed locks,
Strange guise, and uncouth titles, shall avail;
Nay, though they mask them in the scarf of hell,
Some of them I shall note.—And should I find,
As sore I dread, my fair ungrateful Elen
Disgraced and soiled;—my beauteous virgin rose
Torn from its parent stem, just in the bud,
Ere yet its glowing breast had dared to ope
Its blushing beauties to the summer's eye,
Cropt by a villain's hand, and cast aside
All sullied in the dust;—O, I will pawn
This heart's blood for revenge!—Cold though it be,
A parent's feelings warm it, till each drop,
Each creeping rill that sheds its living tinge
41
And rouses me to action.—Yonder comes
A homely swain; mayhap he can inform
More of these stranger knights. I'll go and task him.
[Exit.
The Hunting of Badlewe | ||