COTHURNUS: Play the play!
[CORYDON and THYRSIS move the table and chairs to one side out
of the way, and seat themselves in a half-reclining position
on the floor.]
THYRSIS: How gently in the silence, Corydon, Our sheep go up the bank. They crop a grass That's yellow where the sun is out, and black Where the clouds drag their shadows. Have you noticed How steadily, yet with what a slanting eye They graze?
CORYDON: As if they thought of other things. What say you, Thyrsis, do they only question Where next to pull?—Or do their far minds draw them Thus vaguely north of west and south of east?
THYRSIS: One cannot say. . . . The black lamb wears its burdocks As if they were a garland,—have you noticed? Purple and white—and drinks the bitten grass As if it were a wine.
CORYDON: I've noticed that. What say you, Thyrsis, shall we make a song About a lamb that thought himself a shepherd?
THYRSIS: Why, yes!—that is, why,—no. (I have forgotten my line.)
COTHURNUS: [Prompting.] "I know a game worth two of that!"
THYRSIS: Oh, yes. . . . I know a game worth two of that! Let's gather rocks, and build a wall between us; And say that over there belongs to me, And over here to you!
CORYDON: Why,—very well. And say you may not come upon my side Unless I say you may!