Part 3 (2/2)

Come! Marget, come!--the team is at the gate!

Not ready yet!--you always make me wait!

I omit a certain amount of the dialogue which follows, but at last Marget exclaims:--

Well, now I'm ready, long I have not staid.

ISAAC.

One kiss before we go, my pretty maid.

MARGET.

Go! don't be foolish, Isaac--get away!

Who loiters now?--I thought I could not stay!

There!--that's enough! why, Isaac, sure you're mad!

ISAAC.

One more, my dearest girl--

MARGET.

Be quiet, lad.

See both my cap and hair are rumpled o'er!

The tying of my beads is got before!

ISAAC.

There let it stay, thy brighter blush to show, Which shames the cherry-colour'd silken bow.

Thy lips, which seem the scarlet's hue to steal, Are sweeter than the candy'd lemon peel.

MARGET.

Pray take these chickens for me to the cart; Dear little creatures, how it grieves my heart To see them ty'd, that never knew a crime, And formed so fine a flock at feeding time!

The pretty poem ends with fervid protestations of devotion from Isaac:--

For thee the press with apple-juice shall foam!

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