Page 1390 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

And beg his pardon.’ Then she talked of you, sir;
That you must lose your head tomorrow morning,
And she must gather flowers to bury you,
And see the house made handsome. Then she sung

Nothing but ‘Willow, willow, willow’, and between [80]
Ever was ‘Palamon, fair Palamon’,
And ‘Palamon was a tall young man.’ The place
Was knee-deep where she sat; her careless tresses

A wreath of bulrush rounded; about her stuck
Thousand fresh water flowers of several colours, [85]
That methought she appeared like the fair nymph
That feeds the lake with waters, or as Iris

Newly dropped down from heaven. Rings she made
Of rushes that grew by, and to ’em spoke
The prettiest posies, ‘Thus our true love’s tied’, [90]
‘This you may lose, not me’, and many a one.

And then she wept, and sung again, and sighed,
And with the same breath smiled and kissed her hand.

SECOND FRIEND
Alas, what pity it is!

WOOER
I made in to her;
She saw me, and straight sought the flood. I saved her, [95]

And set her safe to land; when presently
She slipped away, and to the city made
With such a cry and swiftness that, believe me,
She left me far behind her. Three or four

I saw from far off cross her − one of ’em [100]
I knew to be your brother − where she stayed,
And fell, scarce to be got away. I left them with her,
And hither came to tell you.

Enter Gaoler’s Brother, Gaoler’s Daughter, and others.
Here they are.

DAUGHTER
[sings]