Lubin.  Rose-Anna—­She with whom I was to have gone to church.

Mary.  Here is a tangle worse nor any briar rose.

Isabel.  O ’twas such beautiful times as we did have down by the riverside, him and me.

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.