O, sweet the day and fair the May, But Love he laid him down to weep---- [_Enter Gregory_] _Greg._ A pixy sure! Sweet apparition, wilt fly if I approach? Then here I'll stand, and from this point remote As frosty Hebrid from the golden East, Adore thy seeming substance! Ah, no answer? Advance then, valiant Gregory, and explore. Flesh? 'S light, 'tis flesh! A very woman, too. A silent woman. Heavenly miracle! With lips like twin strawberries 'neath one leaf. The very manner of them begs a kiss. I' faith, they shall not beg. _Gla._ You would not kiss me! _Greg._ You wrong me, duck. Why, I'm a man of mirth A soldier, sweet. And would not kiss? Now, now! You take me for a ghost--or starve-bone saint. I am not padded--I fill out my coat And owe but for the cloth. A man, my chick! Shalt have a kiss. _Gla._ O, help me, Eldra! Help! [_Stephen runs in, seizes Gregory and shakes him about_] _Ste._ [_Pricking him with his sword_] Shalt have a kiss, he shall! A man, my chick! I fill my coat, I do.' _Greg._ Hold, sir! I am An officer of the king! _Ste._ Why then, shalt have More kisses! 'S blood! I thought thee but a scrub. A king's man, sir, shall have more ceremony. [_Pricks him around the room. Enter Roland_] _Rol._ Stephen! Brawling here? You know the orders. _Ste._ Orders, I take it, sir, don't count in such a case extraordinary. _Rol._ Your extraordinary cases have become quite usual, Stephen. _Ste._ Be you the judge, sir. This gay blood here was troubling the lady---- _Rol._ Glaia! Then he dies! [_Drawing his sword_] _Ste._ Orders, orders, sir! _Gla._ He did not touch me, Roland. _Rol._ Touch thee? If he No more than looked at thee death is enough. But had he touched thee---- _Gla._ Art thou cruel, Roland? I thought thee gentle. Wouldst thou make me hate thee? _Rol._ You shall not hate me, Glaia. [_Sheathes his sword_] Let him live. But take him from my sight. [_Exeunt Stephen and Gregory_] _Gla._ O, Roland, now I love thee! _Rol._ Love me, Glaia? _Gla._ Next to Hubert. _Rol._ O, next to Hubert. _Gla._ And the boy. _Rol._ The boy? _Gla._ Henry his name is. Such a pretty youth! He gave me this,--and see, this jewel here Is all so precious that it guards the life Of whoso wears it. He must like me well To give it me. Dost think he likes me, Roland?