________________________________________________
_
HUGO, AGATHA, ORION, THURSTON, and armed attendants, riding slowly.
Agatha.
Sir Knight, what makes you so grave and glum?
At times I fear you are deaf or dumb,
Or both.
Hugo.
And yet, should I speak the truth,
There is little in common 'twixt us, forsooth;
You would think me duller, and still more vain,
If I uttered the thoughts that fill my brain;
Since the matters with which my mind is laden
Would scarcely serve to amuse a maiden.
Agatha.
I am so foolish and you are so wise,
'Tis the meaning your words so ill disguise.
Alas! my prospects are sad enough:
I had rather listen to speeches rough
Than muse and meditate silently
On the coming loss of my liberty.
Sad hope to me can my future bring,
Yet, while I may, I would prattle and sing,
Though it only were to try and assuage
The dreariness of my pilgrimage.
Hugo.
Prattle and sing to your heart's content,
And none will offer impediment.
Agatha
(sings):
We were playmates in childhood, my sister and I,
Whose playtime with childhood is done;
Through thickets where briar and bramble grew high,
Barefooted I've oft seen her run.
I've known her, when mists on the moorland hung white,
Bareheaded past nightfall remain;
She has followed a landless and penniless knight
Through battles and sieges in Spain.
But I pulled the flower, and shrank from the thorn,
Sought the sunshine, and fled from the mist;
My sister was born to face hardship with scorn--
I was born to be fondled and kiss'd.
Hugo
(aside):
She has a sweet voice.
Orion.
And a sweet face, too--
Be candid for once, and give her her due.
Agatha.
Your face grows longer, and still more long,
Sir Scholar! how did you like my song?
Hugo.
I thought it rather a silly one.
Agatha.
You are far from a pleasant companion. _
Read next: Scene 11. An Apartment in a Wayside Inn
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