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With crossed arms, o'erlooks his curious craft. Wilt thou not come?

Ethw.Away, I care not for it!

Ber. Nay, do not shake thy head, for thou must come. This magic girdle will compel thy steps. (throws a girdle round him playfully, and pulls it till it breaks.)

''Ethw. (smiling coldly.)'' Thou see'st it cannot hold me. (Bertha's face changes immediately; she bursts into tears, and turns away to conceal it.)

''Ethw. (soothing her.)'' My gentle Bertha! little foolish maid! Why fall those tears? Wilt thou not look on me? Dost thou not know I am a wayward man, Sullen by fits, but meaning no unkindness?

Ber. O thou wert wont to make the hall rejoice; And cheer the gloomy face of dark December!

Ethw. And will, perhaps, again. Cheer up my love!(assuming a cheerful voice.) And plies the wand'ring clown his pleasing craft, Whilst dogs and men and children round him flock? Come, let us join them too. (holding out his hand to her, whilst she smiles thro' her tears.) How course those glancing drops adown thy cheeks, Like to a whimp'ring child! fie on thee, Bertha!