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Kingsley, Charles, 1819-1875

"The Saint's Tragedy"


1st Peas. Dost think? Well--I'll not fret myself about it.
See, now, before I start, I must get home
Those pigs from off the forest; chop some furze;
And then to get my supper, and my horse's:
And then a man will need to sit a while,
And take his snack of brandy for digestion;
And then to fettle up my sword and buckler;
And then, bid 'em all good-bye: and by that time
'Twill be 'most nightfall--I'll just go to-morrow.
Off--here she comes again. [Exeunt.]
[Isentrudis and Guta enter, with the children.]
Guta. I warned you of it; I knew she would not stay
An hour, thus treated like a slave--an idiot.
Isen. Well, 'twas past bearing: so we are thrust forth
To starve again. Are all your jewels gone?
Guta. All pawned and eaten--and for her, you know,
She never bore the worth of one day's meal
About her dress. We can but die--No foe
Can ban us from that rest.
Isen. Ay, but these children!--Well--if it must be,
Here, Guta, pull off this old withered hand
My wedding-ring; the man who gave it me
Should be in heaven--and there he'll know my heart.
Take it, girl, take it.


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