LUBIN. She would sit, her hand in mine by the hour of a Sunday afternoon. [_A pause during which_ LUBIN _and_ ISABEL _seem lost in their own sad memories_. MARY _gets up softly and goes within the cottage_. ISABEL. And when I heared as ’twas to-morrow they were to wed, though ’twas like driving a knife deeper within the heart of me, I up and got me upon the road and did travel along by starlight and dawn and day just for one look upon his face again. LUBIN. ’Twas so with me. From beyond Oxford town I am come to hurt myself worse than ever, by one sight of the eyes that have looked so cruel false into mine. ISABEL. If I was to plead upon my knees to him ’twould do no good—poor wench of a serving maid like me. LUBIN. [_Looking down at himself_.] She’d spurn me from the door were I to stand there knocking—in the coat I have upon me now. No—let her go her way and wed her fancy man. [LUBIN _shades his eyes with one hand_. ISABEL _bows her head on her knees weeping_. MARY _comes out of the house carrying two glass bowls of water_. MARY. Leave your sorrowful tears till later, my friends. This fresh water from the spring will revive you from your travelling. LUBIN. [_Looking up_.] The heart of me is stricken past all remedy, mistress. ISABEL. I could well lie me down and die. [MARY _giving to each one a bowl from which they begin to drink slowly_. MARY. I spoke as you do, once. My lover passed me by for another. A man may give all his love to the gilly flower, but ’tis the scarlet rose as takes his fancy come to-morrow. ISABEL. And has your heart recovered from its sickness, mistress? MARY. [_Slowly_.] After many years. LUBIN. And could you wed you to another? MARY. [_Still more slowly_.] Give the grass that has been trampled underfoot a bit of time, ’twill rise again. There’s healing all around of us for every ill, did we but know it. LUBIN. I’d give sommat to know where ’tis then. MARY. There isn’t a herb nor a leaf but what carries its message to them that are in pain. ISABEL. Give me a bloom that’ll put me to sleep for always, mistress. MARY. There’s evil plants as well, but ’tisn’t a many. There’s hen bane which do kill the fowls and fishes if they eat the seed of it. And there’s water hemlock which lays dumbness upon man. LUBIN. I’ve heard them tell of that, I have. MARY. And of the good leaves there is hounds tongue. Wear it at the feet of you against dogs what be savage. Herb Benet you nail upon the door. No witch nor evil thing can enter to your house. LUBIN. And have you naught that can deaden the stab of love upon the heart, mistress? ISABEL. [_Speaking in anguish_.] Aught that can turn our faithless lovers back again to we? MARY. That I have. See these small packages—you that love Robert, take you this—and you who courted Rose-Anna, stretch out your hand. [_She puts a small paper packet into the hands of each_.