Poor, tearful lady! See, she weeps, and smiles
Aweeping, wrings her hand, and smiles again.
Romeo. She makes as if to speak to us, poor soul.
Ophelia. This is All Hallow Eve. They say to-night each Jill may see her Jack that is to come. But these be idle tales to juggle us poor maids, withal, for I no Jack have found. Cophetua, they say, was a king who was wed to a beggar maid; a pretty tale is’t not? But there’s no truth in’t; there be no such happenings now, for my love was a prince indeed, but we were never wed, and now he is gone. [Weeps] He was a goodly youth to look on, but he is dead by this and burns in hell. [Sings]
He is dead who wronged the maid;
He is dead, perdy.
In the grave his bones are laid,
Hey, and woe is me.
O my love was tall and fine;
Fair he was to see.