Page:Dramas 3.pdf/304

302

In scamp'ring haste, to gain the nearest shelter. It were good sport if they should dare to stand.

You see, my lord, he is in all things perfect.

I see it plainly. Thanks for all thy pains, Brave Ehleypoolie.

Shall we take with us The pipes and doulas* which have hung so long In the recess of Dame Artina's garden? Of all your instruments there are not any That sound so loud and clear.

No, no! I charge thee, Let nothing there be changed. Thy witless words Have struck upon my heart a dismal note, Depressing all its life and buoyancy. Alas! my joy is like the shimm'ring brightness Of moving waves, touch'd by the half-risen moon, Tracing her narrow pathway on the deep : Between each brighten'd ridge black darkness lies, Whilst far on either side, the wat'ry waste Spreads dim, and vague, and cheerless.