"Why, where's the harm on't?" John Shakespeare demanded. "A pretty little concomitant, and anciently proper to all religions, nor among the heathen only, but in England and all parts of Christendom—
In manger wrapped it was—
So poorly happ'd my chance—
Between an ox and a silly poor ass
To call my true love to the dance!
Sing O, my love, my love, my love....
There's precedent for ye, Ma'am—good English precedent. Zooks! I'm a devout man, I hope; but I bear a liberal mind and condemn no form of mirth, so it be honest. The earth swallow us? Ay, soon or late it will, not being squeamish. Meantime, dance, I say! Clear back the tables there, and let the girl show her paces!"
Young Herbert glanced at Burbage with lifted eyebrow, as if to demand, "Who is this madman?" Burbage laughed, throwing out both hands.
"But he is gigantic!" lisped the page, as with a wave of his two great arms John Shakespeare seemed to catch up the company and fling them to work pell-mell, thrusting back tables, piling chairs, clearing the floor of its rushes. "He is a whirlwind of a man!"
WHIRLED DOWN THE LENGTH OF THE ROOM.
"Come, Julitta!" called the man with the drum. "Francisco, take thy pipe, man!—
Au son de ces instruments—
Turelurelu, patapatapan—"