HERBORIST. It is also called the love flower.... If you would gain a man's heart you slip it under his pillow.
HADDA PADDA. Don't you see the ring on my finger? Don't you know my sweetheart?
HERBORIST. Yes, certainly.—He was a handsome boy. [Plays with the bag, as she hums.]:
"When love is the strongest, it leads to your fall, A maid's happy longest, who heeds no man's call."
HADDA PADDA [drawing her scarf more closely around her]. Do you hear the flies buzzing?
HERBORIST [looking deep down into the bag]. Yes.
HADDA PADDA. It is like the sound of a burning wick.
HERBORIST [does not hear].
HADDA PADDA. Now there is only one left.—It is buzzing around my bead. [Putting her hand on the arm of the herborist.] Say something to me, good healer.
HERBORIST. Pretty are her hands! Were they chapped or sore I would heal them with yarrow ointment. [Taking up a yarrow.]