SCENE IV. — The Long Wood — A Well .
Enter Sir L IONEL C HAYR , leading his horse .
C HAYR . Here's the blessed well! Come, my good nag, you shall taste its crystal freshness; and then I know you can do me just one little mile or two more. What! Dickon, my man, are you really going to fail me in this pinch? Come now; you shall breathe a few minutes, too, and I'll give you another ball. There now, dip your muzzle in the coldness.
We're near it now! To save the good Lord Wold,
And make that dear young one of Mervyn happy,
What wouldn't I do! Would she had been my wife!
Well, well, she has chosen better. God be thanked
I've got thus far, and into day's safe light!
The anxiety of my purpose makes me jealous
Of all I meet: Not a hind coming up,
However trudgingly, but seems full bent
To bar my way: Not even a market-girl,
But looks as if she'd brain me with her basket
Of butter and honey: The dull ox is a bull
To gore my horse, that I may not get on
Where's the sun now? Would I could turn him back
One hour on Mercy's dial! But we'll do:
He's a stage short yet of his half-way house.
Come now, old Dickon, you must take me on.
One pull more; boy, and if your good limbs save
The Lord of Wold, we'll shoe you with gold shoes.
What's better for you, man, we'll make you free
O' the flowery meadows: ne'er another labour
Shall you be tasked to. Come.
What's this, masters mine? Oho! have at you, then!
G ORT . Take care, lads, here's a rescue at hand! Led on by an Amazon, too! Tip me an arrow into her, Piercely, by way of Cupid's bolt; and see you cleave the apple o' her heart. Quick, man, or we're undone!
L ADY M ER . Strike home, friends. Heed not me. Save that Knight,
For he's on life and death!
C HAYR . Oh! are you hurt, dear Lady?
Let me draw forth this arrow from your side.
L ADY M ER . Let it alone, life might come out with it,
And I must not die yet: There's much to do.
Let's on to Wold. Have you deliverance?
What are our own cheap lives? — let's save Lord Wold!
Have you deliverance?
C HAYR . Yes.
L ADY M ER . You bleed so, youth,
I fear you'll ne'er reach Wold Can I not on
Before, with what of respite or of pardon
You bring with you?
C HAYR . They would not let you in.
Come on with me. This mars us wofully
O stay thy orb, thou sun!
Enter Sir L IONEL C HAYR , leading his horse .
C HAYR . Here's the blessed well! Come, my good nag, you shall taste its crystal freshness; and then I know you can do me just one little mile or two more. What! Dickon, my man, are you really going to fail me in this pinch? Come now; you shall breathe a few minutes, too, and I'll give you another ball. There now, dip your muzzle in the coldness.
We're near it now! To save the good Lord Wold,
And make that dear young one of Mervyn happy,
What wouldn't I do! Would she had been my wife!
Well, well, she has chosen better. God be thanked
I've got thus far, and into day's safe light!
The anxiety of my purpose makes me jealous
Of all I meet: Not a hind coming up,
However trudgingly, but seems full bent
To bar my way: Not even a market-girl,
But looks as if she'd brain me with her basket
Of butter and honey: The dull ox is a bull
To gore my horse, that I may not get on
Where's the sun now? Would I could turn him back
One hour on Mercy's dial! But we'll do:
He's a stage short yet of his half-way house.
Come now, old Dickon, you must take me on.
One pull more; boy, and if your good limbs save
The Lord of Wold, we'll shoe you with gold shoes.
What's better for you, man, we'll make you free
O' the flowery meadows: ne'er another labour
Shall you be tasked to. Come.
What's this, masters mine? Oho! have at you, then!
G ORT . Take care, lads, here's a rescue at hand! Led on by an Amazon, too! Tip me an arrow into her, Piercely, by way of Cupid's bolt; and see you cleave the apple o' her heart. Quick, man, or we're undone!
L ADY M ER . Strike home, friends. Heed not me. Save that Knight,
For he's on life and death!
C HAYR . Oh! are you hurt, dear Lady?
Let me draw forth this arrow from your side.
L ADY M ER . Let it alone, life might come out with it,
And I must not die yet: There's much to do.
Let's on to Wold. Have you deliverance?
What are our own cheap lives? — let's save Lord Wold!
Have you deliverance?
C HAYR . Yes.
L ADY M ER . You bleed so, youth,
I fear you'll ne'er reach Wold Can I not on
Before, with what of respite or of pardon
You bring with you?
C HAYR . They would not let you in.
Come on with me. This mars us wofully
O stay thy orb, thou sun!