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第129章

"Whose hands? Thine.Off whom? Off her.Why? Because she is a woman.Now, had she not been a woman, thine hands had not been set upon her at all.So the reason for the laying on of hands is the reason for the taking off of hands, and herein is contradiction contradicted! It is the very marriage of pro with con;and no such lopsided union either, as times go, for pro is not more unlike con than man is unlike woman--yet men and women marry every day with none to say, "Oh, the pity of it!" but I and fools like me! Now wherewithal shall we please you? We can rhyme you couplet, triolet, quatrain, sonnet,rondolet, ballade, what you will.Or we can dance you saraband, gondolet, carole, pimpernel, or Jumping Joan.

ELSIE Let us give them the singing farce of the Merryman and his Maid-- therein is song and dance too.

ALL Aye, the Merryman and his Maid!

No.7.I have a song to sing, O!

(DUET)

Elsie and PointPOINT I have a song to sing, O!

ELSIE Sing me your song, O!

POINTIt is sung to the moon By a love-lorn loon, Who fled from the mocking throng, O!

It's a song of a merryman, moping mum, Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum, Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb, As he sighed for the love of a ladye.

Heighdy! heighdy!

Misery me--lack-a-day-dee!

He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb, As he sighed for the love of a ladye!

ELSIE I have a song to sing, O!

POINT Sing me your song, O!

ELSIEIt is sung with the ring Of the songs maids sing Who love with a love life-long, O!

It's the song of a merrymaid, peerly proud, Who loved a lord, and who laughed aloud At the moan of the merryman, moping mum, Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum, Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb, As he sighed for the love of a ladye!

Heighdy! heighdy!

Misery me--lack-a-day-dee!

He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb, As he sighed for the love of a ladye!

POINT I have a song to sing, O!

ELSIE Sing me your song, O!

POINTIt is sung to the knell Of a churchyard bell, And a doleful dirge, ding dong, O!

It's a song of a popinjay, bravely born, Who turned up his noble nose with scorn At the humble merrymaid, peerly proud, Who loved a lord, and who laughed aloud At the moan of the merryman, moping mum, Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum, Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb, As he sighed for the love of a ladye!

Heighdy! heighdy!

Misery me--lack-a-day-dee!

He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb, As he sighed for the love of a ladye!

ELSIE I have a song to sing, O!

POINT Sing me your song, O!

ELSIE It is sung with a sigh And a tear in the eye, For it tells of a righted wrong, O!

It's a song of the merrymaid, once so gay, Who turned on her heel and tripped away From the peacock popinjay, bravely born, Who turned up his noble nose with scorn At the humble heart that he did not prize:

So she begged on her knees, with downcast eyes, For the love of the merryman, moping mum, Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum, Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb, As he sighed for the love of a ladye!

BOTH Heighdy! heighdy!

Misery me--lack-a-day-dee!

His pains were o'er, and he sighed no more, For he lived in the love of a ladye!

Heighdy! heighdy!

Misery me--lack-a-day-dee!

His pains were o'er, and he sighed no more, For he lived in the love of a ladye!

1ST

CITIZEN Well sung and well danced!

2ND

CITIZEN A kiss for that, pretty maid!

ALL Aye, a kiss all round.[CROWD gathers around her]

ELSIE [drawing dagger] Best beware! I am armed!

POINT Back, sirs-- back! This is going too far.

2ND

CITIZEN Thou dost not see the humour of it, eh? Yet there is humour in all things-- even in this.[Trying to kiss her]

ELSIE Help! Help!

[Enter LIEUTENANT with GUARD.CROWD falls backLIEUT.What is the pother?

ELSIE Sir, we sang to these folk, and they would have repaid us with gross courtesy, but for your honour's coming.

LIEUT.[to CROWD] Away with ye! Clear the rabble.

[GUARDS push CROWD off, and go off with them]

Now, my girl, who are you, and what do you here?

ELSIE May it please you, sir, we are two strolling players, Jack Point and I, Elsie Maynard, at your worship's service.We go from fair to fair, singing, and dancing, and playing brief interludes; and so we make a poor living.

LIEUT.You two, eh? Are ye man and wife?

POINT No, sir; for though I'm a fool, there is a limit to my folly.Her mother, old Bridget Maynard, travels with us (for Elsie is a good girl), but the old woman is a-bed with fever, and we have come here to pick up some silver to buy an electuary for her.

LIEUT.Hark ye, my girl! Your mother is ill?

ELSIE Sorely ill, sir.

LIEUT.And needs good food, and many things that thou canst not buy?

ELSIE Alas! sir, it is too true.

LIEUT.Wouldst thou earn an hundred crowns?

ELSIE An hundred crowns! They might save her life!

LIEUT.Then listen! A worthy but unhappy gentleman is to be beheaded in an hour on this very spot.For sufficient reasons, he desires to marry before he dies, and he hath asked me to find him a wife.Wilt thou be that wife?

ELSIE The wife of a man I have never seen!

POINT Why, sir, look you, I am concerned in this; for though I am not yet wedded to Elsie Maynard, time works wonders, and there's no knowing what may be in store for us.Have we your worship's word for it that this gentleman will die to-day?

LIEUT.Nothing is more certain, I grieve to say.

POINT And that the maiden will be allowed to depart the very instant the ceremony is at an end?

LIEUT.The very instant.I pledge my honour that it shall be so.

POINT An hundred crowns?

LIEUT.An hundred crowns!

POINT For my part, I consent.It is for Elsie to speak.

No.8.How say you, maiden, will you wed (TRIO)Elsie, Point, and LieutenantLIEUT.How say you, maiden, will you wed A man about to lose his head?

For half an hour You'll be his wife, And then the dower Is your for life.

A headless bridegroom why refuse?

If truth the poets tell, Most bridegrooms, 'ere they marry, Lose both head and heart as well!

ELSIE A strange proposal you reveal, It almost makes my senses reel.

Alas! I'm very poor indeed, And such a sum I sorely need.

My mother, sir, is like to die.

This money life may bring.

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