Page:Three Plays Sunderland Hills.pdf/166

Rh

Mock me no more with moonshine promises Go and be happy with a moon-maiden!

Again I tell you, only for the child And for the sake of Ysabeau, my friend Who left her baby motherless, for them I may consent to marry you, but now We'll talk no more of it, I'll rest me here, They spoke of Beauty but a while ago.

You think too much of Beauty, 'tis a thing Outside of our existence, which beseems Great churches or the palaces of Kings But has no place within a cottage door,