MELISSA: How think ye of this, Robin?
ROBIN: By Cupid, we are so deep in love that we are like to drown of love and we be not wary. Here hath my lovely jowlopped-crested brother so beset poor Robin with Love and self and Robin, that Robin kens not which is Love, Love's self or himself.
MELISSA: And yet I do think 'tis very plain! Yet an thou canst express this plainer, prithee do, Sir Fool.
“Blithely, sweet lady, here will I frame my meaning in a rhyme, thus:
“Who loveth Love himself above,
With Love base self transcending
Love, Love shall teach how Love may reach
The Love that hath no ending.
“'Tis thus Love-true, Love shall renew,
Love's love thus waning never,
So love each morn of Love new-born,
Love shall live loving ever.”
ROBIN: Aye, verily, there's Love and yet such a love as no man may find methinks, brother.
JOCELYN: Never, Robin, until it find him. For true love, like friendship, cometh unsought, like all other good things.
ROBIN: 'Las! then needs must I be no good thing since I am sought e'en now of old Mopsa the Witch yonder!
And he pointed where the old creature hobbled towards them bent on her crooked staff. Up rose Robin and, hasting to meet her, louted full low, since she was held in great respect of all men by reason of her potent spells. Chuckling evilly, she drew down Robin's tall head to whisper in his ear, whereupon he laughed, clapped hand to brawny thigh, and taking old Mopsa's feeble arm, hastened away with her. But Melissa, reclining 'neath the willow-shade, gazed down into the murmurous waters of the brook with eyes of dream whiles Jocelyn struck soft, sweet chords upon his lute. And presently she turned to view him thoughtfully—his strange, marred face; his eyes so quick and keen 'neath battered cock's-comb; his high, proud bearing despite his frayed and motley habit; and ever her wonder grew until, at last, she must needs question him: