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Anonymous
THE
SECOND SHEPHERD'' PLAY Late Fourteenth Century
In the late medieval cycles of plays celebrating human history from the Creation
through the incarnation to the Day of Judgment, there was place for a play about
the shepherds to whom came an angel with tidings that a savior was born. In
the cycle at Wakefield, in Yorkshire, there were two such plays,called simply
The First
and The Second Shepherd's Plays. The latter is the crowning achievement of the author, whom
we know only as the Wakefield Master, and perhaps of the religious drama of
the Middle Ages.
The world of this play, like that of medieval
art generally, comprehends, but is not con- fined by, particularities of time
and space. Although Christ is not yet born in the early scenes, the shepherds
call upon His Cross and His name and also upon Christian saints, among them
St. Nicholas, who lived more than three centuries after Christ. Also, the shepherds
seem firmly grounded near Wakefield, inasmuch as the nearby village of Horbury
is referred to; yet when the angel sends them to Bethlehem, they go, arriving
before dawn and without crossing water. Such literal impossibilities seem not
to have concerned artists who, from the perspective of eternity, saw history
as synchronous, space as seamless and unitary. And in their art they captured,
both realistically and ritualistically, timely and timeless truths.
The liveried retainers who expropriate
to their own use the goods of such underlings as Coll ; the feckless and procreant
among the lower orders, like Mak and Gill, who cog, shuffle, and filch, with
imagination if without much success ; and the lowly and oppressed herdsmen who
scrabble for a living and find little more than song and the brief charitable
impulses of their own hearts to rejoice in--these come to us with remarkable
particularity from the Wakefield Master's contemporary experience ; yet surely
they embody as well the nature and condition of such men as, fourteen centuries
before, would have journeyed to the town of Bethlehem or dwelt in the fields
nearby, keeping watch over their flocks by night.
Mary and the "little day-star"
in her lap, by contrast, are unique as well as typical. To render them vivid
as a mother and child, the same kind of particularity that the Wakefield Master
had invested in the shepherds was needed. To celebrate them as the transcendent
Mother and Child, ritual was called for-- in the pageants of communal drama
as in the services of the Church. And these modes are handled with a brilliance
virtually unexampled.
In the beginning, when the three
shepherds lament the political, domestic, and natural causes of their suffering,
and when they are joined by the light-fingered and slippery-tongued night-walker
Mak, the mode is realistic if anachronistic. Even here, though, we see symbolic
elements anticipating the Adoration of the Christ Child. This is the darkenss
before the dawn, the suffering before the redemption, and the local flood is
likened to the Flood of Noah, the antetype of Christ, who preserved a remnant
of mankind from destruction and with whom the Lord established an everlasting
covenant.
In the play's middle portion realism
is again the mode--comic realism now, exploiting the petty irritabilities of
the shepherds, the cat-and-dog marriage of Mak and Gill, the theft and discovery
of the sheep. Nevertheless, for all the comedy, the symbols gain in intensity.
Mak, commending himself to the hands of Pontius Pilate and then casting a spell
on the shepherds, looms momentarily as the devil. Gill's device for hiding the
sheep is a false nativity, preparing by contrast for the true one to follow.
Mak's anticipated meal and his somewhat insistent invitations to the shephers
to eat and drink are clear if oblique reminders of the mass, the eucharistic
feast.
In the final scene the realistic
detail typifies as before--more powerfully, perhaps; certainly without the former
hint of abrasiveness--as the shepherds off their humble gifts and bestow on
the child just such happy affection as men have felt at cradles throughout all
ages: "he merries," "he laughs," "darling dear."
The element of ritual, anticipated by the earlier symbols, now achieves its
fullest expression. No longer allusively but directly the play deals with Mary
and her Son. In one of the imposing tableaux of Christian art, the shepherds
kneel and are inspired to a litany of grateful praise, uniting worship with
natural affection in perfect expression of their faith that God has become man
:
Hail, sovereign savior . . .
Hail, little tiny mop!
When they depart, singing, to publish their story,
the miracle of spirit made flesh and dwelling among mankind has been fully confirmed
as a vision at once contemporary and timeless.
THE SECOND SHEPHERD'S PLAY
Late Fourteenth Century
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119
Scene 1 |
The Second Shepherds' Play |
THE
SECOND SHEPHERD'S PLAY
Anonymous
Adapted
by Arthur M. Eastman from the modernizations of Clarence Griffin
Child and Martial Rose
CHARACTERS
COLLthe first shepherd
GIB the second shepherd
DAW the third shepherd, a boy
MAK the sheep-stealer
GILL Mak's wife
ANGEL
MARYwith
the baby Jesus
SCENE 1
[The
open fields.]
COLL.
Lord, but this weather is cold, and I
[am
ill wrapped,
Near numb, were truth told, so long
have I
5 [napped.
My legs they fold, my fingers are chapped.
It
is not as I would, for I am all lapped
In
sorrow.
In storms and tempest,
10 Now in
the east, now in the west,
Woe
is him has never rest
Modification
of The Second Shepherds'
Play of the Towneley
Cycle as translated by Clarence Griffin Child, from Riverside Literature
Series Number ??, copyright(c) 1910, 1938 by Houghton
Mifflin Company. "The Second
Shepards' Play" from the book The Wakefield Mystery Plays edited by Martial Rose. Copyright 1961
by Martial Rose. Republished by Doubleday &
Company, Inc. |
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Now or tomorrow.
But we simple shepherds
that walk on the moor,
In faith, we are near-hands out of the
door.*
No wonder, as it stands, if we be poor, 15
For the tilth* of our lands lies as fallow as the [floor,
As you ken.*
We are so lamed,
Overtaxed and maimed, 20
We are made hand-tamed,
By
these gentry men.
They rob us of our
rest, our Lady them harry!
These men that are lord-fast,*
they cause the
[plow
tarry. 25
That, men say, is for the best; we find it
contrary.
Thus are husbandmen oppressed, in point to [miscarry,
In life. 30
Thus hold they us under,
Thus bring us to blunder;
It
were great wonder,
If ever we
should thrive.
Get a man a liveried
sleeve or a brooch, 35
[nowadays
Woe is him that him grieves, or once him
[gainsays!
No blame may he receive, howe'er grasping
[his
ways; 40
And yet may no man believe one word
that he [says--
Not a letter.
He can seize what
he's lacking,
Boastfully and bragging ; 45
And all is through the backing
Of
men who are greater.
There shall come
a swain, a proud peacock,
[you
know ;
He must borrow my wain, my plough also; 50
near-hands
. . . door nearly homeless
tilth arable
part
ken know
lord-fast attached
to or retained by lords
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120
ANONYMOUS | Scene
1 |
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These I am full fain
to grant ere he go.
Thus live
we in pain, anger and woe
By
night and day.
He must have, if
he choose,
5 What I must needs lose;
I
were better hanged than refuse,
Than
once say him nay.
It
does me good, as I walk thus on my own,
Of
this world for to talk, and so make my
10 [moan.
To my sleep will I stalk and harken
anon,
There abide on a balk*
or sit on a stone
Full
soon.
For I trow, pardie,*
15 True men, if they be,
We get
more company
Ere
it be noon.
[He steps aside. Gib enters.]
GIB.
Benste and Dominus!* What may this
20 [mean?
The wold faring thus, how oft have
we seen?
Lord, this weather works
through us, and the [wind
is full keen,
And the frosts so
hideous they water mine
25 [een.*
No lie!
Now
in dry, now in wet,
Now in snow,
now in sleet,
When my shoes freeze
to my feet,
30 It's not at all easy.
But as far as I ken, whereever
I go,
We poor wedded men suffer
much woe;
We have sorrow ever
again--it falls often so.
Silly
Copple, our hen, both to and fro
35 She
cackles;
But begin she to croak
To groan or to cluck,
For
our cock it's no joke
balk strip of grassland between plowed fields
trow, pardie believe, by God
Benste . . . Dominus bless
us (benste is a shortened form of benedicte) and Lord
een eyes |
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For he is in shackles.
These men that are
wed have not all their will; 40
When they're full hard bestead,*
they sigh
[mighty
still.
God knows the life they're led is full hard and
[full
ill;
In bower nor in bed may they speak their will. 45
This tide*
My part have I found,
Learned
my lesson sound:
Woe to him who is bound,
For
he must it abide. 50
But now late in
our lives--a marvel to me,
That I think my heart rives such
wonders to
[see;
That which destiny drives will come to be--
Some neb will have
two wives, and some men 55 [three
In
store.
Some are grieved that have any,
But I'll wager my
penny
Woe is him that has many, 60
For he feels sore!
But, young men, of wooing, for God that you [bought,
Beware
well of wedding, and hold well in
[thought,
65
"Had I known" is a thing that serves not
a jot.
Much constant mourning has wedding home [brought,
And grief,
With many a sharp shower,* 70
For you may catch in an hour
What shall savor] full sour
As long as you live.
For,as e'er read
I Epistle, I have one to my fere,*
As sharp as a thistle, as
rough as a briar.
She is browed like a bristle, with a sour
face by [her.
bestead put to it
tide time
shower pain
fere mate
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121
Scene 1 | The Second Shepherds' Play |
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If she once wets her
whistle, she can sing full [clear
Her paternoster.
As
great as a whale,
5 She has a gallon of gall.
By hym that died for us all,
I
would I'd run till I'd lost her!
GOLL. Gib,
look over the row! Full deafly you [stand.
10 GIBB. Yea, the devil
in your maw, so tarrying!
Did'st
see aught of Daw?
COLL.
Yea,
on a lea-land*
I
heard him blow.* He comes near at hand,
Not far.
15 Stand still.
GIB.
Why?
COLL. For
he comes, think I.
GIB. He
will beguile us with a lie
Unless
we beware.
20 [Enter DAW.]
DAW. Christ's cross me speed, and Saint
[Nicholas!
Thereof have I need; it is worse than
it was.
Who knows should take
heed and let the world 25 [pass
;
I'll ever it speed
; it's as brittle as glass,
And
drifts.
But the world never fared
so,
And marvels greater grow--
30 Now in weal, now in woe--
And
everything shifts.
Was
never since Noah's flood such floodings [seen,
Winds and rains so rude and storms
so keen :
35 Some stammered, some stood in doub,* as
I [ween.
Now God turn all to good! I say as
I mean,
For
ponder :
These floods they so
drown,
40 Both in fields and in town,
And
bear all down ;
lea-land
meadow
blow i.e., his horn
Some . . . doubt i.e.,
at the time of Noah's flood |
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And that is a wonder.
We that walk in
the nights our cattlr to keep,
We see fearful sights
when other men sleep
[Catching sight of the others.]. 45
Yet
my heart grows light-- I see rascals a peep.
[Aside.] You two
are tall weights* -- I will give [my
sheep
A turn, below
But
full ill have I meant ;*
50
As I walk on this
bent,*
I may lightly repent,
If
I stub my toe.
Ah, sir, God, you
save, and master mine!
A drink would I have
and somwhat to dine. 55
COLL. Christ's curse, my knave,
you're a lazy [hind!
GIB. What! Let the boy rave ! --Wait till later
[this
time.
We've had our food. 60
I'll luck to your pate!--
Though the knave came late,
Yet
he's in a state
To sup, if he could.
DAW. Such servants as I, who work
and 65
[sweat,
Eat our bread full dry, and that makes me fret.
We're oft wet
and weary while our masters
[sleep
yet ;
But comes full tardy the food that we get-- 70
And less than our due.
Both our
dame and our sire,
When we've run in the mire,
Take a nip
at our hire--
And pay us late, too.
75
But hear my truth, master, for
the fare that you [pay
I shall work hereafter--tit for tat is fair play.
I shall do
little, sir, but sport as I may,
tall wights proper
creatures ; i.e., a fine pair
But . . . meant Daw
reproves himself for the disrespect he has
just expressed toward his elders, then,
in the following lines, proposes for himself
an easy penance
bent
field
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122
ANONYMOUS | Scene
I |
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For ne'er
does my supper my stomach dismay In
fields.
Why should I threap?*
With my staff can I leap ;*
5 Men say, "Bargain cheap
But
a poor return yields."
COLL.
You were an ill lad
to go a-wooing
With a master that
had but little for spending.
GIB.
Peace, I say, lad. No more jangling,
10 Or I'll make you
full sad, by heaven's king!
Your
gauds--*
Where
are our sheep, boy?-- we scorn.
DAW.
Sir, this same day at morn*
I left
them in the corn,
15 When thay rang Lauds.*
They have pasture
good, thay cannot go wrong.
COLL.
That is right. By the rood,* these [nights
are long!
Ere we go now, I would
someone gave us a
20 [song.
GIB.
So I thought as I stood, to cheer us
[along.
DAW.
I agree.
25 COLL. The tenor I'll
try.
GIB. And I the treble so
high.
DAW.Then the mean*
shall be I.
How you chant now,
let's see!
[They sing. Then MAK
enters, wearing a
30 cloak.]
MAK.
Now, lord, for thy seven names' spell [that
made the stars on high,
Full
more than I can tell, thy will for me lack I.
I'm
all at odds, naught's well--that oft my 35 [brains
doth try.
threap haggle
With . . . leap i.e., run away
gauds pranks
morn i.e., after midnight
Lauds matins, the church service held at
midnight (as here) or dawn
rood cross
mean middle part
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Would God I might in heaven dwell, for there
[no
children cry,
So shrill.
COLL. Who
is it pipes so poor?
MAK. Would God you knew of me, sure! 40
Lo, a man that walks on the moor,
And has not all
his will!
GIB. Mak, whither
do you speed? What news
[do
you bring?
DAW.
Is he come?Then take
heed each one to 45
[his
thing.
[He
takes Mak's cloak from him.]
MAK. I be a yeoman, indeed,
under the king,
The self and the same. A lord's message I [bring--
50
No lie.
Fie on you! Go hence
Out
of my presence!
I must have reverence.
Why, who be I? 55
COLL. Why
play it so quaint? Mak, you do [wrong.
GIB. Would you play the saint?
For that do
[you
long?
DAW. With words he can paint--the
devil 60
[him
hang!
MAK. I'll make a complaint : you'll be flogged [ere
long,
At a word.
And wracked without ruth.
COLL. But,
Mak, is that truth?
Now take outt that sothern tooth,*
And set in a turd.
GIB. Mak, the devil in your eye!
A blow I'd
[fain
give you. 70
DAW .
Mak, know you not
me? By God, I
[could
beat you!
MAK. God keep you all three! Methought I
[had
seen you.
You're a fair company! 75
COLL. Now you remember, do you?
southern tooth Mak
has been speaking in a southern dialect.
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123
Scene 1 |
The Second Shepherds'
Play |
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GIB.
Take heed!
When
thus late a man goes,
What will
folks suppose?
5 You've a bad name, God knows,
For stealing
of sheep.
MAK.
That I am true as steel no men debate,
But
a sickness I feel has brought me to this
[state:
10 My belly lacks a meal and suffers ill fate.
DAW.
"Seldom lies the de'il dead by the [gate."*
MAK.
Therefore
15 Full sore
am I and ill;
May
I turn stone still
If I've
eaten a morsel
This month
and more.
COLL. How fares your wife? By
my hood,
20 [how
fares she?
MAK. Sprawling, by the rood, at the fire
[she'll
be,
And a house
full of brood. With the bottle
[she's
free--
25 For else not much good for aught I can
see
Or
do.
Eats as fast as she can,
And
each year that comes to a man
Adds
another to our clan--
30 And
some years two.
Now were I richer
and full of purse
I'd eaten clear out of home
and house.
She's a foul dear, if look you
durst!
There's none can see her, who
knows a worse
35 Than know I.
Would
you see what I'd proffer?
I'd give all
in my coffer
For her soul might I offer
A prayer for aye.
40 GIB. I know so
wearied none is in this shire;
"Seldom
. . . gate" proverbial
: appearances are deceptive
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I'd
sleep though I earned less for my hire.
DAW. I'm
cold and naked and long for a fire.
COLL. I'm weary
with walk and am covered
[with
mire.
Look to! 45
GIB. Nay, near shall I lie
For I must sleep soundly.
DAW. As good a man's son, I,
As any
of you.
[They lie down.]
50
But, Mak, come lie here--in between--if
you [please.
MAK. You'll be hindered, I fear, from talking
[at
ease,
Indeed.
[He lies among them. They sleep.]
From my top to my toe,
Manus tuas commendo,
Pontio
Pilato.*
Christ's cross me speed! 60
[He rises.]
It is time to strike ere the iron
grows cold,
And craftily creep now into the fold,
And nimbly
to work, but not be too bold,
For bitter the bargain, if all
were told 65
At the ending.
Time now for haste, truth to tell,
But he needs good counsel
That fain would fare well
With
but little for spending. 70
Put about you a circle as round
as the moon,
[He
draws the circle.]
Till I have done what I will, until it be noon,
Lie you stone
still until I have done
While I summon my skill some magic to
croon. 75
"On high,
Over your heads
I raise my hand.
Your sight is lost on sea and land!"
But I must gain much more command
Manus
. . . Pilato I commend your hands to Pontius Pilate
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124
ANONYMOUS | Scene
II |
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To
work it right.
Lord,
but they sleep hard--as you may all hear.
Never
yet was I shepard, but of that I've no
[fear.
5 If the flock be scared, yet shall I nip near
Hey! Draw hitherward! [He seizes a sheep.] [Now
mends our cheer
From sorrow.
A fat sheep, I dare say,
10 A good fleece, dare I lay.
When
I can, I'll repay,
But
this will I borrow.
[He departs with the sheep.]
SCENE II
[MAK's cottage.]
15 MAK [outside]. Hey, Gill, are you in? Get us [some
light!
GILL. [within]. Who makes such a din this [time
of the night?
I've sat down to
spin ; I doubt that I might
20 Rise a penny to win-- I
curse them on high!
So
fares
A housewife that has been
Fretted 'twixt and between.
Here
may no work be seen
25 For such small
chores.
MAK.
Good wife, open this hatch. See you
[not
what I bring?
GILL.
I'll let you draw the latch (MAK opens [the door.) Ah, come in, my sweeting!
30 MAK.
You care not a scratch for my long [standing.
GILL. By your naked neck are you like
to be [hanging.
MAK.
Away!
I am worth my meat,
For in a fix can I get
More than they
that toil and sweat
All the long
day.
40 Thus it fell to my lot,
Gill! Such luck came my [way!
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GILL. It were a foul blot to be hanged as you [may.
MAK. I have oft 'scaped, Gillott,
as risky a play. GILL. "But so long goes the pot to the water,"
45 [men
says,
"At last
Comes it home broken."
MAK. Well know I the token,
But let it never be
spoken!
But come and help fast. 50
I would he were slain, I want so to eat.
Not this year was I so fain to have some sheep's [meat.
GILL. If they come
ere he's slain and hear the 55 [sheep
bleat-- MAK. Then might I be ta'en : that were a cold [sweat!
Go spar
The outer door.
GILL. Yes, Mak,
For if they come at your back--
MAK. Then might I get from
the whole pack
The devil, and more.
GILL. A
good trick have I spied, since you 65
[think
of none.
Here shall we him hide till they be gone.
In
my cradle. Abide! Let me alone,
And I shall lie beside, as in
childbed, and groan.
MAK. 70
Well said!
And, I shall say this night
A boy child saw the
light.
GILL. Now bless I that day bright,
That saw me born and bred! 75
This is a good device and a far cast.*
Ever a woman's advice helps at the last.
I never know who spies
: go you back fast.
MAK. Save I come ere they raise, there'll
[blow
a cold blast! 80
I will go sleep.
[He returns to the
shepherds.]
Still sleeps
all this company,
And I shall slip in privily,
far cast clever
trick
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125
Scene 1V | The Second
Shepherds' Play |
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As it had never been I
That carried off their
sheep.
SCENE III
[The
open fields.]
COLL. Resurrex a mortruus!* Reach
me a
5 [hand!
Judas
carnas dominus!* I scarcely can stand:
My
foot sleeps, by Jesus ; hunger has me [unmanned.
I thought that we laid us full nigh
to England.
10 GIB. Verily !
Lord, but I have slept
well !
As fresh as
an eel,
As light
I do feel
As leaf on a tree.
15 DAW [disoriented.] A blessing within ! [Whatever
is shaking
My heart from my skin,
my body thus quaking?
Who's making
this din that's set my head [aching?
20 To the door I'll win. Hark, fellows, be waking !
Four
we were--
see you aught of Mak now?
COLL.
We were up ere you.
GIB.
Man, to God I vow,
25 He's yet gone nowhere.
DAW.
Methought he was lapped in a wolf's [skin.
COLL. So many are wrapped now--namely
[within.
30 DAW. When we had long napped, methought [with
a gin*
A fat sheep he
trapped ; but he made no din.
GIB.
Be still !
35 Your
dream makes you mad ;
It's a nightmare
you've had.
COLL.
God bring good out of bad,
If
it be his will.
Resurrex
a mortruus garbled
Latin, referring apparently to Christ's resurrection from the dead
Judas
. . . dominus Judas, lord (in?) carnate
gin snare
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GIB. Rise, Mak, for
shame! Right long you
[do
lie. 40
MAK. Now
Christ's holy name be with us for [aye!
What is this? By Saint James, I can't move when [I
try.
I suppose I'm the same. Aah, my neck's lain 45
[awry
Herein.
[They help him get up.]
Many thanks! Since yester-even,
Now by Saint Stephen, 50
I was so flayed by a dream
My
heart jumped from my skin.
I thought Gill began
to croak and travail full
[sad
;
Well-nigh at the first cock she bore a
young [lad,
55
Of cares I've a stock more than ever I had.
Ah, my head!
A house full of hunger
pains--
The devil knock out their brains ! 60
woe is him has many bairns
And has but little bread.
I must go home,
by your leave, to Gill, as I [thought.
Pray look up my sleeve that I've stolen naught:65
I am loath
you to grieve or from you take
[aught.
[He
goes. ]
DAW.
Go forth, ill may you thrive! Now
[would
I we sought, This morn
For the sheep in our care.
COLL. First I shall fare.
Let us meet.
GIB. Where?
DAW.
At
the crooked thorn.
SCENE IV
[MAK's cottage.]
MAK [outside.]
Undo this door! Who is here? [How
long shall I stand? 80
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126
ANONYMOUS | Scene
V |
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GILL [within]. Who makes such a blare?
[Now
walk in the wenyand!* MAK. Ah,
Gill, what cheer? It is I, Mak, your [husband.
5 GILL. Then may we see here the devil in a [band--*
[Opening
the door.]
Sir Guile !
Lo,
he comes with a croak
10 As though held by the throat.
And I cannot devote
To
my work any while.
MAK. Oh, the fuss that she makes
to get an [excuse.
15 Naught but pleasure she takes, and curls up [her
toes.
GILL. Why, who works and
who wakes?
[Who
comes, who goes?
Who brews, who
bakes? What makes me thus 20 [hoarse?
And then,
It
is sad to behold--
Now in hot,
now in cold,
Full woefull the
household
25 That wants a woman !
But
how have you sped with the shepherds, [Mak?
MAK. The last word that they said
when I [turned
my back,
30 Thay would count each head of sheep in their [pack.
They'll not be pleased, I'm afraid,
when they [their
sheep lack,
Perdie !
35 But
howe'er the game go,
They'll suspect
me, I know,
And raise a great
bellow,
And
cry out against me.
But
nowdo as you hight.*
40 GILL. To
that I agree.
I'll swaddle him
right in the cradle by me.
Were
it a greater sleight, yet could I help be.
wenyand waning of the moon : an unlucky time
band noose
Benste . . . Dominus bless
us (benste is a shortened form of benedicte) and Lord
hight promised |
|
I will lie down straight. Come cover me.
[She lies down. MAK tucks
her in.]
Behind
! 45
Come Coll and his crew,
They'll pry through and through.
MAK. For help I'll halloo
The sheep if they find.
GILL.
Hark now for their call-- they will 50 [come
anon.
Come and make ready all, and sing on your [own--
Sing lullay* you shall, for I must groan
And cry
out by the wall on Mary and John 55
Full sore.
Sing lullay quite fast
When you hear them last.
If my part is miscast,
Trust me no more. 60
SCENE V
[The
crooked thorn.]
DAW. Ah, Coll, good morn! Why sleep you
[not?
COLL. Alas, that ever I was born!
We have a
[foull
blot-- 65
A fat wether have we lorn.*
DAW. God
forbid, say it not!
GIB. Who
should give us this scorn? That's
[a
foul spot.
COLL. 70
Some shrew.*
I have searched with my dogs
All Horbury shrogs,*
And with fifteen hogs*
Found I only the ewe. 75
DAW. Now trust me, if you will,
by Saint
[Thomas
of Kent,
Either Mak or Gill had a hand in this event.
COLL. Peace, man, be still!
I saw when he [went.
80
lullay
a lullaby
lorn lost
shrew rascal
shrogs thickets
hogs young sheep
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127
Scene V1 | The Second Shepherds' Play |
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You slander him ill
; you ought to repent
With good speed.
GIB.
Now as ever I might thrive,
As
I hope to keep alive,
5 Only Mak could contrive
To do that same
deed.
DAW.
Then off to his homestead, be brisk on [our
feet.
I shall never eat bread
till I know all complete.
10 COLL. Nor have drink in my
head till with
[him
I meet. GIB. In no place will I bed
until I him greet--
My
brother !
One vow will I plight,
15 Till I see him in sight,
I
will ne'er sleep one night
Where
I do another !
SCENE VI
[MAK's
cottage]
[MAK,
hearing the shepherds
coming, be-
20
gins to sing
a lullaby at the top of his voice
; GILL groans
in concert.]
DAW.
D'you hear how they croak? Our sire [will
now croon.
COLL. Never heard I
folk so clean out of tune.
25 Call him
GIB.
Mak ! Undo your door soon !
MAK.
Who is it that spoke, as if it were noon,
So
loud?
Who is it, I say?
30
DAW. Good fellows, were it day !
MAK.
[as the shepherds enter]. As far as you [may,
Speak low
Over
a sick woman's head, who is not at her 35 [ease
;
I had rather be dead than she
suffer unease.
GILL. [as they approach her]. Get away from
[my
bed ! Let me breathe, if you please.
Each
step that you tread from my nose to my 40 [knees
Goes through me.
COLL.
Tell us, Mak, if you may,
How
fare you, I say?
MAK. Are you
in town today? |
|
How fare you three?
45
You have run in
the mire, and now are all wet.
I shall make you a fire, if you
will sit.
A nurse would I hire--remember you yet
My dream,
which entire has fulfilled its threat
In
due season? 50
I have bairns, if you knew,
Far more than a few ;
But
we must drink as we brew,
And that is but
reason.
I would you'd dine
ere you went. Methinks 55
[that
you sweat.
GIB.
Our mood won't be mended by drink
[nor
by meat.
MAK. Is ought then
ill sent?
DAW. Our
loss is great. 60
A sheep stol'n we
lament, ta'en while we slept.
MAK.
Sirs, drink !
Had I been there
Some should have paid full dear. 65
COLL. Mary, some trow that you were,
And that makes us think !
GIB.
Mak, one and another trows it must [have
been thee.
DAW. Either you or
your spouse, say we. 70
MAK.
Now if aught suspicion throws on Gill [or
me,
Come and search our house, and then may you &nbs |