And we will strew chopped straw before the door.[n9] [Exit.
Margaret. [going homewards]
How could I once so boldly chide
When a poor maiden stepped aside,
And scarce found words enough to name
The measure of a sister’s shame!
If it was black, I blackened it yet more,
And with that blackness not content,
More thickly still laid on the paint,
And blessed my stars, as cased in mail,