Page:Passions 2.pdf/141

Rh

Who spins a coat from it. And then his wardrobe, too, of costly geer, Which from the wallets of a hundred thieves, Has been transferring for a score of years, In endless change, it will be noble spoil! Ha! 'tis the trumpet's voice! What royal leader this way shapes his route? (a silent pause.) Ye answer not, and yet ye seem to know.

Good fellows, what say ye?

First Serv. The king! the king! and with five thousand men!

Second Serv. I saw his banners from the battlements Waving between the woods.

Third Serv.And so did I. His spear-men onward move in dusky lines, Like the brown reeds that skirt the winter pool.

Sel. Well, well, there needs not all this wond'ring din; He passes on, and we shall do our part.

First Serv. The foe is three leagues off.

Sel. Hold thy fool's tongue! I want no information.