Chapter 5 No.5

The Scottish Gate, Carlisle. Among the crowd.

Mary. O why did we come here?

Jean.

One, two, three, four-

A devil's dozen of them at the least.

Katrina.

Poor lads! They did not need to set them up

So high, surely. Which is the one you'ld call

Prettiest, Jean?

Jean.

That fellow with the sneer;

The axe's weight could not ruffle his brow,-

How signed it is with scorn!

Katrina.

Ah yes, he's dark

And you are red: Mary and I will choose

Some golden fellow. Which do you think, Mary?

Jean.

O, but mine is the one! Look-do you see?-

He must have put his curls away from the axe;

Or did they part themselves when he knelt down,

And let the stroke have his nape white and bare?

O could a girl not nestle snug and happy

Against a neck, with such hair covering her!

Katrina.

Now, Mary, we must make our yellow choice;

You've got good eyes; which do you fancy?-Jean!

What ails her?

Jean.

How she stares! which is the one

She singles out? That topmost boy it is,-

Pretty enough for a flaxen poll indeed.

Is that your lad, Mary?

Katrina.

She's ill or fey;

They are too much for her; and I truly

Am nearly weeping for them and their wives and lasses.

Her eyes don't budge! She's fastened on his face

With just the look that one would have to greet

The ghost of one's own self. See, all her blood

Is trapt in her heart,-pale she is as he.

A Man in the Crowd. Can't you see she's fainting? 'Tis no sight For halfling girls.

Jean.

Halfling yourself.

Katrina.

Mary!

Mary. Let us go home now: help me there, Katrina.

Katrina. Yes, dear, but are you ill?

Mary.

No: let us go home.

Katrina (to Jean). Come, Jean. Did you not hear her gasp? We must Be with her on her way home.

Jean. You go then. I've not lookt half enough at these. Besides-

[MARY and KATRINA go.

Well, sir, how dare you speak to girls like that,

When they're alone?

The Man. You needn't be so short; I guess you're one to take fine care of yourself.

Jean.

Yes, and I'ld choose a better-looking man

Than you, my chap, if I wanted company.

The Man. Come this way, you'll see better.

Jean. Impudence! Who said your arm might be there?

The Man.

O, it's all right.

Jean. And what do you think of the rebels now they're dead?