THE LADY [_caressingly_].

Come, say!

PIERROT.

Is love all schooling, with no time to play?

THE LADY.

Though all love's lessons be a holiday, Yet I will humor thee: what wouldst thou play?

PIERROT.

What are the games that small moon-maids enjoy, Or is their time all spent in staid employ?

THE LADY.

Sedate they are, yet games they much enjoy: They skip with stars, the rainbow is their toy.

PIERROT.

That is too hard!

THE LADY.

For mortal's play.

PIERROT.

What then?

THE LADY.

Teach me some pastime from the world of men.

PIERROT.

I have it, maiden.

THE LADY.

Can it soon be taught?

PIERROT.

A single game, I learnt it at the Court.

I sit by thee.

THE LADY.

But, prithee, not so near.

PIERROT.

That is essential, as will soon appear.

Lay here thine hand, which cold night dews anoint, Washing its white ----

THE LADY.

Now is this to the point?

PIERROT.

Prithee, forebear! Such is the game's design.

THE LADY.

Here is my hand.

PIERROT.

I cover it with mine.

THE LADY.

What must I next?

[_They play._]

PIERROT.

Withdraw.

THE LADY.

It goes too fast.

[_They continue playing, until PIERROT catches her hand._]

PIERROT [_laughing_].

'Tis done. I win my forfeit at the last.

[_He tries to embrace her. She escapes; he chases her round the stage; she eludes him._]

THE LADY.

Thou art not quick enough. Who hopes to catch A moon-beam, must use twice as much despatch.

PIERROT [_sitting down sulkily_].

I grow aweary, and my heart is sore.

Thou dost not love me; I will play no more.

[_He buries his face in his hands. THE LADY stands over him._]

THE LADY.