Valentine.
Can you?—You know full well, in the truth of your heart,
That there's no man in all the world of men
Whose will woman's beauty cannot divide
Easily as a sword cuts jetting water.
Sylvan.
Have you not heard, that even jetting water
May have such spouting force, that it becomes
A rod of glittering white iron, and swords
Will beat rebounding on its speed in vain?—
Of such a force I mean to have my will.
[He sits and stares moodily out to sea. His companions whisper each other.
Valentine.
Here, Francis! Look you yonder. O but this,
This is the joke of the world!
Francis. Hallo! a girl! And, by the Lord, Katrina!—But why here?
Valentine.
She's followed him, of course; she's heard of this
Mad escapade and followed after him.
Francis. She has not seen us yet. Now what to do?
Valentine.
Quick! Where's your handkerchief? Truss his wrists and ankles,
And pull his coat up over his head and leave him!
He won't get free of her again; she'll lead
His wildness home and keep him tame for ever.
Now!
[They fall on him, bind him, and blindfold him.
Sylvan.
What are you doing? Whatever are you doing?
Hell burn you, let me go!