You fairy elves that be.’
Fife. Ay, and go on—
Something of ‘following darkness like a dream,’
For that we’re after.
Ros. No, after the sun;
Trying to catch hold of his glittering skirts
That hang upon the mountain as he goes.
Fife. Ah, he’s himself past catching—as you spoke
He heard what you were saying, and—just so—
Like some scared water-bird,