MARY SEYTON.
That is Master Knox.
He carries all these folk within his skin,
Bound up as 't were between the brows of him
Like a bad thought; their hearts beat inside his;
They gather at his lips like flies in the sun,
Thrust sides to catch his face.
MARY CARMICHAEL.
Look forth; so—push
The window—further—see you anything?
MARY HAMILTON.
They are well gone; but pull the lattice in,
The wind is like a blade aslant. Would God
I could get back one day I think upon:
The day we four and some six after us
Sat in that Louvre garden and plucked fruits
To cast love-lots with in the gathered grapes;
This way: you shut your eyes and reach and pluck,
And catch a lover for each grape you get.
I got but one, a green one, and it broke
Between my fingers and it ran down through them.
MARY SEYTON.
Ay, and the queen fell in a little wrath
Because she got so many, and tore off
Some of them she had plucked unwittingly—
She said, against her will. What fell to you?
MARY BEATON.
Me? nothing but the stalk of a stripped bunch
With clammy grape-juice leavings at the tip.
MARY CARMICHAEL.
Ay, true, the queen came first and she won all;
It was her bunch we took to cheat you with.
What, will you weep for that now? for you seem
As one that means to weep. God pardon me!
I think your throat is choking up with tears.
You are not well, sweet, for a lying jest
To shake you thus much.
MARY BEATON.
I am well enough:
Give not your pity trouble for my sake.
MARY SEYTON.
If you be well sing out your song and laugh,
Though it were but to fret the fellows there.—
Now shall we catch her secret washed and wet
In the middle of her song; for she must weep
If she sing through.
MARY HAMILTON.
I told you it was love;
I watched her eyes all through the masquing time
Feed on his face by morsels; she must weep.