Page:Miscellaneous Plays 1.pdf/62

42

No, thou art not.

The violence of the night must plead my pardon, For breaking thus unask'd upon your rest. But wand'ring from my way, I know not how, And losing my companions of the road, Deep in the 'tangled wood the storm o'ertook me; When spying thro' the trees this glimm'ring lamp, And judging it, as now it doth appear, The mid-night taper of some holy man, Such as do oft in dreary wilds like this Hold their abode, I ventur'd onwards. (Old Man, offering him bread and dryed fruits.)

Perhaps thou'rt hungry.

I thank you gratefully.

There is no need. Fall to, if thou hast any mind to it.

I thank you truly, but I am not hungry.

Perhaps thou'rt dainty: I've naught else to give thee.