No matter—I wou'dn't dance with old nick for a partner, to the prettiest tune that ever was composed.
[Exeunt.
Enter Three Pilgrims, who join in the following
GLEE.
(Accompanied by one of them on the lute.)
"Pilgrims. The sun to ocean hies away.
"The curfeu bell is ringing,
"And pilgrims thro' the twilight grey,
"Now cheer the way by singing.
"While each, tho' weary, feels delight,
"In thinking of his inn at night,
"And ev'ry footstep moves in time,
"As plays the distant village chime."
Re-enter the Peasants running.
Peasants. Mercy on us!
Pilgrims.Strangers, say—