Unhand me—peasant, by your grasp! Here's gold.
'Twas a mad freak of mine. I said I'd pluck
A branch from the white-blossomed shrub beneath
The casement there. Take this, and hold your peace.
Tresh. Into the moonlight yonder, come with me!
Out of the shadow.
Mer. I am armed, fool!
Tresh. Yes,
Or no? You'll come into the light, or no?
My hand is on your throat—refuse!—