Part 19

“How cool the eve! ’Tis creepy to the marrow. Look ye down the hillside there below. See ye the cotter’s taper burning there? How white the night! ’Tis put upon the earth a mantling shroud, and sailing in the silver sky a fairy boat. Perchance it bringeth us the Babe.

“Jana, see’st thou the Stranger? He now doth count the sheep. Dare I trust him there? I see him fondling a lamb and he doth hold it close unto his breast.”

(Jana) “Nay, lady, ’tis the shepherd’s dog who skulketh now ahind the shelter wall.”

(Lady Marye) “Ah, give me, spite o’ this, the power to sing like Thine own bird who swayeth happily upon the forest bough and pours abroad his song where no man heareth him.

“Hear ye them below within the hall? They do lap at swine-broth. Their cups do clank. At morrow’s eve they feast and now do need to stretch their paunches. Full often have I seen my ladye mother’s white robe stained crimson for a jest, and oftener have I been gagged to swallow it. But, Jana, I do laugh, for the greatest jest is he who walloweth in slime and thinketh him a fish.”

(Jana) “See, Lady Marye! This, thy mother’s oaken chest, it still doth bear a scent o’ her. And this, thy gown o’ her own fashioning.”

(Lady Marye) “Yea, Jana, and this o’ her, a strand wound to a ball for mine own casting. And this! I tell thee, ’tis oft and oft she did press me to her own breast and chide me with her singing voice: ‘My Marye, ’tis a game o’ buff, this living o’ these days o’ ours o’ seeking happiness. When ye would catch the rogue he flitteth on.’

“See, these spots o’ yellowed tears—the rusting of her heart away! Stay, Jana, I’ll teach thee a trick o’ tripping, for she full oft did say a heart could hide aneath a tripping.

“Thee shouldst curtsey so; and spread thy fan. ’Tis such a shield to hide ahind. Then shouldst thy heart to flutter, trip out its measure, so. See, I do laugh me now—nay, ’tis ne’er a tear, Jana, ’tis the mist o’ loving! Doth see the moon hath joined the dance? Or, am I swooning? ’Tis fancy. See, the cotter’s taper still doth flicker from the shutter. What’s then amiss? The stranger, Jana! See! He entereth the shelter place! Come, I fear me lest I see too much? Lend me thy hand. I’ve played the jane-o-apes till the earth doth seem awry.

“Hear ye the wine-soaked song, and aye, the feed-drunkened? My sire, Jana, my sire! I do grow hateful of myself, but mark ye, at the setting o’ the feast I do wage him war at words! A porridge pot doth brew for babes; I promise ye a full loaf. Do drop the curtain now, I weary me with reasoning.”

(Morning at the Castle Gate.)

(Tito) “Aho, within! Thine eyes begummed and this the Christ-eve and mornin’ come? Scatter! Petro, stand ahand! I do fetch ye sucklings agagged with apples red. Ye gad, my mouth doth slime! To whiff a hungerfull would make the sages wag.”

(Petro) “Amorrow, Tito. Thee’lt wear thee white as our own Lady long afore ye e’en canst dip thy finger in the drip.”

(Tito) “Pst! Petro, I did steal the brain and tung. Canst leave me have a peep now to the hall? Jesu! What a breeder o’ sore bellies. I’d pay my price to heaven to rub Sir John a briskish rub with mullien o’er the back.

“They do tell me down below that trouble bideth Timon. His Tina layeth dull and Leta doth little but mumble prayer.”

(Petro) “Tito, thee art a chanter of sad lays at this Christ-time. Go thou to the turret and play ye at the pipes. Put thee the sucklings to the kitchen, aside the fire dogs there. And Tito, thee’lt find a pudding pan ahind the brushbox. Go thee and lick it there!”

(To Sir John) “Aye, I do come, my lord. ’Tis but the sucklers come. I know not where in the castle she doth bide, but hark ye and ye’ll surely hear the pipes.”

(Sir John) “Bah! Damn the drivelling pipes! I do hear them late and early. ’Tis a fine bird for a lordly nest! Go, fetch her here! But no, I’d tweak her at a vaster sitting. Get thee, thou grunting swine! And take this as thy Christ-gift. I’d deal thee thrice the measure wert not to save these lordly legs. Here, fetch me a courser. I’d ride me to the hounds. And strip him of his foot cloth, that I do waste me not a blow. Dost like the smart? Or shall I ply it more? Thee’lt dance to tune, or damn ye, run from cuts!

“Ho, Timon, how goes it with the brat? The world’s o’erfull o’ cattle now!”

(Timon) “Yea, sire, so did my Leta say when she did see thee come. ’Tis with our Tina as a bird behovered in the day. Aday, and God forgive thee.”

(In Lady Marye’s Chamber.)

(Lady Marye) “Jana, morn hath come. ’Tis Christ-tide and He not here! My limbs do fail, and how do I then to stand me thro’ the day? The feast, the feast, yea, the feast! The day doth break thro’ fog in truth!

“My mother’s bridal robe! Go, Jana, fetch it me, and one small holly bough. Lend me a hand. I fain would see the cot.

“See thou! The sun doth love it, too, and chooseth him to rise him o’er its roof! Hath thee seen the herder yet to buckle loose the shelter place? And, Jana, did all seem well to thee? Nay, the Stranger, Jana! See, he still doth hold the lamb! ‘My Marye, ’tis a game o’ buff, this living o’ these days o’ ours.’ In truth, ’tis put.

“Jana, I did dream me like a babe the night hours through; a dream so sweet, o’ vast blue above wherein the angels hid, and I did see the Christ-child swaddled in a cloud; and Mary, maid of sorrows, led to him adown a silver beam.

“Then thee dost deem my fitful fancy did but play me false? Stay thou, my tears, and, heart o’ me, who knoweth He doth watch o’er thee and me?

“Her robe! Ah, Fancy, ’tis thy right that thou art ever doubted. For thou art a conjurer, a trickster, verily. What chamming joy didst thee then offer her?

Footnote 5: