RACHEL. Give me your lance, good man, and stick the point
Here in the ground, and then the roof will be
Held up in that direction. Thus it throws
A broader shadow. Quickly, now! That's right!
You other fellow, like a snail, you bear
Your house upon your back, unless, perhaps,
A house for some one else. Show me the shield!
A mirror 'tis, in sooth! 'Tis crude, of course,
As all is, here, but in a pinch 'twill do.
(They hold the shield before her.)
One brings one's hair in order, pushes back
Whatever may have ventured all too far,
And praises God who made one passing fair.
This mirror's curve distorts me! Heaven help!
What puffy cheeks are these? No, no, my friend,
What roundness nature gives us, satisfies.—
And now the helmet—useless in a fight,
For it conceals what oft'nest wins—the eyes;
But quite adapted to the strife of love.
Put me the helm upon my head.—You hurt!—
And if one's love rebels and shows his pride,
Down with the visor!
(Letting it down.)
He in darkness stands!
But should he dare, mayhap, to go from us,
And send for arms, to leave us here alone,
Then up the visor goes.
(She does it.)
Let there be light!
The sun, victorious, drives away the fog.
KING (going to her).
Thou silly, playing, wisely-foolish child!
RACHEL. Back, back! Give me the shield, give me the lance!
I am attacked, but can defend myself.