And I’ll buy my lady
A feathered hat!
The play then begins with the tanner and his apprentice, and the action soon leads to the royal castle, where the exquisite love story is developed, without a love scene. There is no tragedy in the story. It is all sentiment, and humor. And it is filled with poetry. Consider, for example, this description of Easter morn, from the prologue to the sixth act:
The earth did wake with boughs aburst. A deadened apple twig doth blush at casting Winter’s furry coat, to find her naked blooms abath in sun. The feathered hosts, atuned, do carol, “He hath risen!” E’en the crow with envy trieth melody and soundeth as a brass; and listening, loveth much his song. Young grasses send sweet-scented damp through the hours of risen day. The bell, atoll, doth bid the village hence. E’en path atraced through velvet fields hath flowered with fringing bloom and jeweled drops, atempting tarriers. The sweet o’ sleep doth grace each venturing face. The kine stand knee depth within the silly-tittered brook, or deep in bog awallow. Soft breath ascent and lazy-eyed, they wait them for the stripping-maid.
The play is permeated with rich humor, and to illustrate this I give a bit of the dialogue between Dougal, the page, and Anne, the castle cook. To appreciate it one must know a little of the story. The hand of the Princess Ermaline is sought by Prince Charlie, a doddering old rake, whom she detests, but whom for reasons of state she may be compelled to accept. However, she vows she will not speak while he is at court, nor does she utter a word, in the play, until the end of the last act. She has fallen in love with a troubadour, who has come from no one knows where, but who by his grace and his wit and his intelligence has made himself a favorite with all the castle folk. Anne has a roast on the spit, and is scouring a pot with sand and rushes, when Dougal enters the kitchen.
Dougal.—“Anne, goody girl, leave me but suck a bone. My sides have withered and fallen in, in truth.”
Anne.—“Get ye, Dougal! Thy footprints do show them in grease like to the Queen’s seal upon my floor!”
Dougal.—“The princess hath bidden me to stay within her call, but she doth drouse, adrunk on love-lilt o’ the troubadour, and Prince of Fools (Prince Charlie) hath gone long since to beauty sleep. He tied unto his poster a posey wreath, and brushed in scented oils his beauteous locks, and sung a lay to Ermaline, and kissed a scullery wench afore he slept.”
Anne.—“The dog! I’d love a punch to shatter him! And Ermaline hath vowed to lock her lips and pass as mute until his going.”
Dougal.—“Yea, but eye may speak, for hers do flash like lightning, and though small, her foot doth fall most weighty to command.