Come back, come back, before the masque begins!
Ay, or a little later--never fear: You'll not so easily lose me.
Yes, I am foolish. This is the first small parting we have had; But--you'll be back ere dusk?
Ah, do you think That chains of steel could hold me, sweet, from you, With those two heavenly eyes to call me home, Those lips to welcome me? Good-bye!
[_He goes hurriedly out. She looks after him for a moment, then suddenly calls._]
Robin! Ah, well, no matter now--too late!
SCENE II. _Sherwood Forest: dusk. Outside the cave, as in the second act. SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF runs quickly across the glade, followed by PUCK._
Shadow-of-a-Leaf! Shadow-of-a-Leaf! Shadow-of-a-Leaf! Don't dance away like that; don't hop; don't skip Like that, I tell you! I'll never do it again, I promise. Don't be silly now! Come here; I want to tell you something. Ah, that's right. Come, sit down here upon this bank of thyme "While I thine amiable ears"--Oh, no, Forgive me, ha! ha! ha!
Now, Master Puck, You'll kindly keep your word! A foxglove spray In the right hand is deadlier than the sword That mortals use, and one resounding thwack Applied to your slim fairyhood's green limbs Will make it painful, painful, very painful, Next time your worship wishes to sit down Cross-legged upon a mushroom.
Haven't I kept my word? Wasn't it I That made you what these poor, dull mortals call Crazy? Who crowned you with the cap and bells? Who made you such a hopeless, glorious fool That wise men are afraid of every word You utter? Wasn't it I that made you free Of fairyland--that showed you how to pluck Fern-seed by moonlight, and to walk and talk Between the lights, with urchins and with elves? Is there another fool twixt earth and heaven Like you--ungrateful rogue--answer me that!
All true, dear gossip, and for saving me From the poor game of blind man's buff men call Wisdom, I thank you; but to hang and buzz Like a mad dragon-fly, now on my nose, Now on my neck, now singing in my ears, Is that to make me free of fairyland? No--that's enough to make the poor fool mad And take to human wisdom.
Yet you love me, Ha! ha!--you love me more than all the rest. You can't deny it! You can't deny it! Ha! ha!
I won't deny it, gossip. E'en as I think There must be something loves us creatures, Puck, More than the Churchmen say. We are so teased With thorns, bullied with briars, baffled with stars. I've lain sometimes and laughed until I cried To see the round moon rising o'er these trees With that same foolish face of heavenly mirth Winking at lovers in the blue-bell glade.