University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.

At the Well.
Margaret and Eliza, with water-pitchers.
ELIZA.
Have you heard nought of Barbara?

MARGARET.
Nothing at all. I seldom stray
From home, to hear what people say.

ELIZA.
You may believe me every whit;
Sibylla told it me to-day.
She too has been befooled: that comes of it
When people give themselves such airs!

MARGARET.
How so?

ELIZA.
'Tis rank!
She eats and drinks not for herself alone.

MARGARET.
Poor girl!

ELIZA.
Well, well! she has herself to thank.
How long did she not hang upon
The fellow!—Yes! that was a parading,
A dancing and a promenading!
Must always be before the rest!
And to wines and pasties be press'd;
Began then to be proud of her beauty,
And was so reckless of her duty
As to take presents from him too.
That was a cooing and a caressing!
No wonder if the flow'r too be a-missing!

MARGARET.
I pity her.

ELIZA.
Methinks you have not much to do.
When we were not allowed to venture o'er
The threshold, night and day kept close at spinning,
There stood she, with her paramour,
Upon the bench, before the door,
Or in the lane, and hour for hour
Scarce knew the end from the beginning.
'Tis time she should submit to rule
And penance do on the repentance-stool!

MARGARET.
But he will take her for his wife.

ELIZA.
He marry her! not for his life!
An active youth like him can find,
Where'er he pleases, quarters to his mind.
Besides he's gone!

MARGARET.
That was not fair.

ELIZA.
And comes he back, she'll not enjoy him more.
Her marriage wreath the boys will tear,
And we will strew chopped straw before the door.

(Exit.)
MARGARET.
(going homewards.)
How could I once so boldly chide
When a poor maiden stept aside!
And scarce found words enough to name
The measure of another's shame!
It seemed so black, yet blackened I it more,
And when it blackest was, I'd have it blacker still,
And blessed my fate, and with proud thoughts did swell,
And now myself am what I chid before!—
Yet was each step that lured my slippery feet
So good, so lovely, so enticing sweet!