JOSEPH.
My saddle-girths have given way
With trudging through the heat to-day;
To you I think it is but play
To ride and hold the boy.
MARY.
Hark! how the robins shout and sing,
As if to hail their infant King!
I will alight at yonder spring
To wash his little coat.
JOSEPH.
And I will hobble well the ass,
Lest, being loose upon the grass,
He should escape; for, by the mass,
He's nimble as a goat.
Here MARY shall alight and go to the spring.
MARY.
O Joseph! I am much afraid,
For men are sleeping in the shade;
I fear that we shall be waylaid,
And robbed and beaten sore!
Here a band of robbers shall be seen sleeping, two of whom shall rise and come forward.
DUMACHUS. Cock's soul! deliver up your gold!
JOSEPH.
I pray you, sirs, let go your hold!
You see that I am weak and old,
Of wealth I have no store.
DUMACHUS. Give up your money!
TITUS.
Prithee cease.
Let these people go in peace.