Lines 871–1012

CITIZEN.
(alone) Now must I hatch some crafty shrewd device
To keep my goods, and yet secure a part
In all these public banquets, like the rest.
Hah! Excellent! ’Twill work. Away! Away!
On to the banquet-hall without delay.

(Here again was a choral song, now lost.)

HAG.
Why don’t the fellows come ? The hour’s long past:
And here I’m standing, ready, with my skin
Plastered with paint, wearing my yellow gown,
Humming an amorous ditty to myself,
Trying, by wanton sportiveness, to catch
Some passer-by. Come, Muses, to my lips,
With some sweet soft Ionian roundelay.

GIRL.
This once then, Mother Mouldy, you’ve forestalled me,
And peeped out first ; thinking to steal my grapes,
I absent ; aye, and singing to attract
A lover ; sing then, and I’ll sing against you.
For this, even though ’tis irksome to the audience,
Has yet a pleasant and a comic flavour.

HAG.
Here, talk to this, and vanish: but do you,
Dear honey piper, take the pipes and play
A strain that’s worthy you, and worthy me,
(singing) Whoever is fain love’s bliss to attain,
Let him hasten to me, and be blest ;
For knowledge is sure with the ripe and mature,
And not with the novice, to rest.
Would she be as faithful and true to the end,
And constant and loving as I?
No: she would be flitting away from her friend,
And off to another would fly,
Would fly, would fly, would fly,
And off to another would fly.

GIRL.
(affettuosamente) O grudge not the young their enjoyment.
For beauty the softest and best
Is breathed o’er the limbs of a maiden,
And blooms on the maidenly breast.
You have tweezered your brows, and bedizened your face,
And you look like a darling for—death to embrace

HAG.
(con fuoco) I hope that the cords of your bedstead will rot,
I hope that your tester will break,
And O when you think that a lover you’ve got,
I hope you will find him a snake,
A snake, a snake, a snake,
I hope you will find him a snake!

GIRL.
(teneramente) O dear, what will become of me?
Where can my lover be flown ?
Mother is out ; she has gone and deserted me,
Mother has left me alone.
Nurse, nurse, pity and comfort me,
Fetch me my lover, I pray ;
So may it always be happy and well with thee,
O, I beseech thee, obey.

HAG.
(fortissimo) These, these, are the tricks of the harlotry
This, the Ionian itch !

GIRL.
(con spirito) No! no! you shall never prevail with me,
Mine are the charms that bewitch.

HAG.
Aye, aye, sing on: keep peeping, peering out
Like a young cat. They’ll all come first to me.

GIRL.
What, to your funeral? A new joke, hey?

HAG.
No, very old.

GIRL.
Old jokes to an old crone.

HAG.
My age won’t trouble you.

GIRL.
No? Then what will?
Your artificial red and white, perchance.

HAG.
Why talk to me?

GIRL.
Why peeping ?

HAG.
I? I’m singing
With bated breath to dear Epigenes.

GIRL.
I thought old Geres was your only dear.

HAG.
You’ll soon think otherwise: he’ll come to me.
O here he is, himself.

GIRL.
Not wanting aught
Of you, Old Plague.

HAG.
O yes, Miss Pineaway.

GIRL.
His acts will show. I’ll slip away unseen.

HAG.
And so will I. You’ll find I’m right, my beauty.

YOUTH.
O that I now might my darling woo !
Nor first be doomed to the foul embrace
Of an ancient hag with a loathsome face ;
To a free-born stripling a dire disgrace !

HAG.
That you never, my boy, can do !
’Tis not Charixena’s style to-day ;
Now the laws you must needs obey
Under our democratical sway.
I’ll run and watch what next you are going to do.

YOUTH.
O might I catch, dear gods, my fair alone,
To whom I hasten, flushed with love and wine.

GIRL.
(reappearing above) That vile old Hag, I nicely cozened her.
She deems I’m safe within, and off she’s gone.
But here’s the very lad of whom we spake.
(Singing) This way, this way.
Hither, my soul’s delight !
O come to my arms, my love, my own,
O come to my arms this night.
Dearly I long for my love ;
My bosom is shaken and whirls,
My heart is afire with a wild desire
For my boy with the sunbright curls.
Ah me, what means this strange unrest,
This love which lacerates my breast ?
O God of Love, I cry to thee ;
Be pitiful, be merciful,
And send my love to me.

YOUTH.
(singing) Hither, O hither, my love,
This way, this way.
Run, run down from above,
Open the wicket I pray :
Else I shall swoon, I shall die !
Dearly I long for thy charms,
Longing and craving and yearning to lie
In the bliss of thy snow-soft arms,
O Cypris, why my bosom stir,
Making me rage and rave for her?
O God of Love, I cry to thee,
Be pitiful, be merciful,
And send my love to me.
Enough, I trow, is said to show
the straits I’m in, my lonely grieving.
Too long I’ve made my serenade :
descend, sweet heart, thy chamber leaving,
Open, true welcome show,
Sore pangs for thee I undergo.
O Love, bedight with golden light,
presentment fair of soft embraces,
The Muses’ bee, of Love’s sweet tree
the flower, the nursling of the Graces,
Open, true welcome show,
Sore pangs for thee I undergo.

HAG.
Hi! knocking? seeking me?

YOUTH.
A likely joke.

HAG.
You banged against my door.

YOUTH.
Hanged if I did.

HAG.
Then why that lighted torch? What seek you here?

YOUTH.
Some Anaphlystian burgher.

HAG.
What’s his name?

YOUTH.
No, not Sebinus ; whom you want belike.

HAG.
By Aphrodite, will you, nill you, sir.

YOUTH.
Ah, but we’re not now taking cases over
Sixty years old: they’ve been adjourned till later ;
We’re taking now those under twenty years.

HAG.
Aha, but that was under, darling boy,
The old régime : now you must take us first.

YOUTH.
Aye, if I will: so runs the Paetian law.

HAG.
You didn’t, did you, dine by Paetian law.

YOUTH.
Don’t understand you: there’s the girl I want.

HAG.
Aye, but me first: you must, you rogue, you must.

YOUTH.
O we don’t want a musty pack-cloth now.

HAG.
I know I’m loved: but O you wonder, don’t you,
To see me out of doors : come, buss me, do.

YOUTH.
No, no, I dread your lover.

HAG.
Whom do you mean ?

YOUTH.
That prince of painters.

HAG.
Who is he, I wonder.

YOUTH.
Who paints from life the bottles for the dead.
Away ! begone! he’ll see you at the door.

HAG.
I know, I know your wishes.

YOUTH.
And I yours.

HAG.
I vow by Aphrodite, whose I am,
I’ll never let you go.

YOUTH.
You’re mad, old lady.

HAG.
Nonsense! I’ll drag you recreant to my couch.

YOUTH.
Why buy we hooks to raise our buckets then,
When an old hag like this, let deftly down,
Could claw up all the buckets from our wells ?

HAG.
No scoffing, honey : come along with me.

YOUTH.
You’ve got no rights, unless you’ve paid the tax,
One-fifth per cent on all your wealth—of years.

HAG.
O yes, you must; O yes, by Aphrodite,
Because I love to cuddle lads like you.

YOUTH.
But I don’t love to cuddle hags like you,
Nor will I: never! never!

HAG.
O yes, you will,
This will compel you.