Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 3.pdf/47

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And how did she receive it?

El. I tried to do it, but her present humour Is jest and merriment. She is behind me, Stopping to stroke a hound, that in the corridor Came to her fawningly to be carest.

''Glot. (listening)'' Aye, she is coming; light and quick her steps; So sound they, when her spirits are unruly; But I am bold; she shall not mock me now.

Methinks you trip it briskly, gentle Dame.

Or. Does it offend you, noble Knight.

Glot. Go to! I know your meaning. Wherefore smile you so?

Or. Because, good sooth! with tired and aching sides I have not power to laugh.

Glot. Full well I know why thou so merry art. Thou think'st of him to whom thou gav'st that sprig Of hopeful green, his rusty casque to grace, Whilst at thy feet his honour'd glave he laid.

Or. Nay, rather say, of him, who at my feet, From his proud courser's back, more gallantly Laid his most precious self; then stole away, Thro' modesty, unthank'd, nor left behind Of all his geer that flutter'd in the dust, Or glove or band, or fragment of torn hose, For dear remembrance-sake, that in my sleeve