“But summer will come again, my child,” said her mother, smiling.
“Not to find us all three the same as now,” said Cicely sadly; “I shall be away. There are always changes, last summer we had little Charlie here.”
She sighed as she spoke. Mrs. Methvyn said no more. “Cicely will be less fanciful when she is fairly settled in her new life,” she thought to herself.
[CHAPTER IX.]
A CHANGE IN THE WEATHER.
Armado. Comfort me, my boy. What great men have been in love?
Moth. Hercules, master.
Armado. Most sweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name more; and sweet, my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage.
Moth. Samson, master. He was a man of good carriage, great carriage. For he carried the town gates on his back like a porter, and he was in love.
Love’s Labour Lost.