A face that should content me wondrous well.
Should not be fair, but lovely to behold;
Of lively look, all grief for to repel,
With right good grace as would I that it should
Speak, without words, such words as none can tell,
Her tress also should be of crisped gold;
With wit, and these, I might perchance be tried,
And knit again with knot that should not slide.
"Then I perceive you are difficult to please, my son," she replied.
"Listen, stay Dorothy," he said, quickly, as she stepped upon the footbridge, "surely that means you. Oh, Dorothy, let me speak. I must tell you. I cannot let you depart yet. I love you. I have loved you ever since I saw you first."
He paused, but as the maiden did not speak, he continued.
"Ever since the hawking party I have loved you. Do you remember that?"
"I do," she demurely replied.
"Nay, stay, leave me not thus," he cried, as Dorothy unconsciously moved. "You must stay, you must listen. Dorothy, I cannot flatter you like some; I speak the truth. I cannot live without you make me happy. Will you be mine?"
"But, sir knight—"
"Nay," he interrupted, "say it is so. I am no knight, I am but a simple esquire, but though you be the daughter of the rich King of the Peak—"
"Nay, do not talk like that," she interrupted quickly.