Accursed I in lingering life thus long!
In living thus, each minute of an hour Doth pierce my heart with darts of thousand deaths:
If she by flight her fury do escape, What will she think?
Will she not say--yea, flatly to my face, Accusing me of mere disloyalty--A trusty friend is tried in time of need, But I, when she in danger was of death And needed me, and cried, Segasto, help:
I turned my back and quickly ran away.
Unworthy I to bear this vital breath!
But what! what needs these plaints?
If Amadine do live, then happy I;
She will in time forgive and so forget:
Amadine is merciful, not Juno like, In harmful heart to harbor hatred long.
[Enter Mouse, the Clown, running, crying: clubs.]
MOUSE.
Clubs, prongs, pitchforks, bills! O help! a bear, a bear, a bear, a bear!
SEGASTO.
Still bears, and nothing else but bears. Tell me, sirrah, where she is.
MOUSE.
O sir, she is run down the woods: I see her white head and her white belly.
SEGASTO.
Thou talkest of wonders, to tell me of white bears.
But, sirra, didst thou ever see any such?
MOUSE.
No, faith, I never saw any such, but I remember my father's words: he bade me take heed I was not caught with a white bear.
SEGASTO.
A lamentable tale, no doubt.
MOUSE.