 | An Unhistorical Pastoral |  |
SCENE III.
—Another Part of the Wood.Enter on one side Green and Ivy, tipsy; on the other Celio and Sylvia, singing.
Song.
Every blush the sun discovers.
Loud and busy, bright and bold,
Day was never loved of lovers.
Many a blush night's mantle covers.
Night for kissing, night for loving,
Night for us, for we are lovers!
Ivy.
What singers be these?
Green.
A shepherd and his lass.
Ivy.
I know a better song than that. It goes this way:
And set not by the world a cherry;
For dry bread chokes—
That's not right. I forget it. I could make a better song
than either myself; by my soul, I could! None of your
sheepish love-songs, but a song to make the stars dance
quicker, and the moon multiply itself a score of times. You
have only made two moons.
Celio.
We did not aim at putting the moon beside herself.
Ivy.
I could make a song about the moon. Sir, I have
read about the moon. Her name—hic!—her name is—
hic!—
Hecate.
Ivy.
Give a man time to speak his mind. Her name is
Hecate, although you say it. I know about the moon:
Hecate is the moon—Hecate.
Sylvia.
O, come away!
Celio.
Make your song, my friend, and show it to me tomorrow.
Ivy.
I will, sir; I will.
Celio.
Good-night.
[Celio and Sylvia go out.
Ivy.
The song is coming, Green; it's coming. ‘By the
light of Hecate's lamp’—lamp, lamp—what rhymes with
lamp?—Come to some more delusive, poetic spot.—‘By the
light of Hecate's lamp’—lamp?—Come.—What the devil
rhymes with lamp!—Come.
[Ivy and Green go out.
Enter hurriedly Cinthio, and Faustine dressed as a shepherd-boy.
Faustine.
O Cinthio, hearken! We are lost. Alas!
Cinthio.
Fear not, my love: all danger we shall pass.
[They go out.
| An Unhistorical Pastoral | |