Page:Three Plays Sunderland Hills.pdf/114

Rh Ah, wrestler mine, wherefore, unconquer'd yet, Should Death defeat you with a felon fall? Live long and happy, train'd to such true health That all excess seem alien as disease. In generous emulation of your peers Using the good things Gods have given to men And winning women worthier of love Than I, poor leaf upon the winds of fate.

(Rising, rushes off ):

A laurel leaf for garland of the God, Too proud to wreathe a merely mortal brow!

( enters from Temple )

(To ):

Sibyl, reclaim'd by service of your king Assume the choric robe, the crown of bays, The wand of budded laurel in your hand Sprinkl'd with lustral water of His Spring.