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The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 1
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He should be here to help her. What she'll do
I am sure I do not know. We cannot keep her.
And for her work, she does it far too well
To earn a living by it. Her times are changed—
She should not give herself such prideful airs.
Man.
Come, come, old wife! you women are so hard
On one another! You speak fair for men,
And make allowances; but when a woman
Crosses your way, you speak the worst of her.
But where is this you're going then to-night?
Do they want me to go as well as you?
Woman.
Yes, you must go, or else it is no use.
They cannot give the money to me, except
My husband go with me. He told me so.
Man.
Well, wife, it's worth the going—but to see:
I don't expect a groat to come of it.
SCENE III.—Kitchen of a small inn. Host and Hostess
Host.
That's a queer customer you've got upstairs!
What the deuce is he?
Hostess.
What is that to us?
He always pays his way, and handsomely.
I wish there were more like him.
Host.
Has he been
At home all day?
Hostess.
He has not stirred a foot
Across the threshold. That's his only fault—
He's always in the way.
Host.
What does he do?
Hostess.
Paces about the room, or sits at the window.
I sometimes make an errand to the cupboard,
To see what he's about: he looks annoyed,
But does not speak a word.
Host.
He must be crazed,
Or else in hiding for some scrape or other.
Hostess.
He has a wild look in his eye sometimes;
But sure he would not sit so much in the dark,
If he were mad, or anything on his conscience;
And though he does not say much, when he speaks
A civiller man ne'er came in woman's way.
Host.
Oh! he's all right, I warrant. Is the wine come?
SCENE IV.—The inn; a room upstairs. JULIAN at the window, half hidden by the curtain
Julian.
With what profusion her white fingers spend
Delicate motions on the insensate cloth!
It was so late this morning ere she came!
I fear she has been ill. She looks so pale!
Her beauty is much less, but she more lovely.
Do I not love he? more than when that beauty
Beamed out like starlight, radiating beyond
The confines of her wondrous face and form,
And animated with a present power
Her garment's folds, even to the very hem!
Ha! there is something now: the old woman drest
In her Sunday clothes, and waiting at the door,
As for her husband. Something will follow this.
And here he comes, all in his best like her.
They will be gone a while. Slowly they walk,
With short steps down the street. Now I must wake
The sleeping hunter-eagle in my eyes!
SCENE V.—A back street. Two Servants with a carriage and pair
1st Serv.
Heavens, what a cloud! as big as Aetna! There!
That gust blew stormy. Take Juno by the head,
I'll stand by Neptune. Take her head, I say;
We'll have enough to do, if it should lighten.
2nd Serv.
Such drops! That's the first of it. I declare
She spreads her nostrils and looks wild already,
As if she smelt it coming. I wish we were
Under some roof or other. I fear this business
I am sure I do not know. We cannot keep her.
And for her work, she does it far too well
To earn a living by it. Her times are changed—
She should not give herself such prideful airs.
Man.
Come, come, old wife! you women are so hard
On one another! You speak fair for men,
And make allowances; but when a woman
Crosses your way, you speak the worst of her.
But where is this you're going then to-night?
Do they want me to go as well as you?
Woman.
Yes, you must go, or else it is no use.
They cannot give the money to me, except
My husband go with me. He told me so.
Man.
Well, wife, it's worth the going—but to see:
I don't expect a groat to come of it.
SCENE III.—Kitchen of a small inn. Host and Hostess
Host.
That's a queer customer you've got upstairs!
What the deuce is he?
Hostess.
What is that to us?
He always pays his way, and handsomely.
I wish there were more like him.
Host.
Has he been
At home all day?
Hostess.
He has not stirred a foot
Across the threshold. That's his only fault—
He's always in the way.
Host.
What does he do?
Hostess.
Paces about the room, or sits at the window.
I sometimes make an errand to the cupboard,
To see what he's about: he looks annoyed,
But does not speak a word.
Host.
He must be crazed,
Or else in hiding for some scrape or other.
Hostess.
He has a wild look in his eye sometimes;
But sure he would not sit so much in the dark,
If he were mad, or anything on his conscience;
And though he does not say much, when he speaks
A civiller man ne'er came in woman's way.
Host.
Oh! he's all right, I warrant. Is the wine come?
SCENE IV.—The inn; a room upstairs. JULIAN at the window, half hidden by the curtain
Julian.
With what profusion her white fingers spend
Delicate motions on the insensate cloth!
It was so late this morning ere she came!
I fear she has been ill. She looks so pale!
Her beauty is much less, but she more lovely.
Do I not love he? more than when that beauty
Beamed out like starlight, radiating beyond
The confines of her wondrous face and form,
And animated with a present power
Her garment's folds, even to the very hem!
Ha! there is something now: the old woman drest
In her Sunday clothes, and waiting at the door,
As for her husband. Something will follow this.
And here he comes, all in his best like her.
They will be gone a while. Slowly they walk,
With short steps down the street. Now I must wake
The sleeping hunter-eagle in my eyes!
SCENE V.—A back street. Two Servants with a carriage and pair
1st Serv.
Heavens, what a cloud! as big as Aetna! There!
That gust blew stormy. Take Juno by the head,
I'll stand by Neptune. Take her head, I say;
We'll have enough to do, if it should lighten.
2nd Serv.
Such drops! That's the first of it. I declare
She spreads her nostrils and looks wild already,
As if she smelt it coming. I wish we were
Under some roof or other. I fear this business
Другие электронные книги автора George MacDonald
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Очень интересная!