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Now that our horses gone) this side the ridge, Find your way back to dear old home again; While I--Come, come!-- What, weeping my poor fellow? FIFE. Leave you here Alone--my Lady--Lord! I mean my Lord-- In a strange country--among savages-- Oh, now I know--you would be rid of me For fear my stumbling speech-- ROS. Oh, no, no, no!-- I want you with me for a thousand sakes To which that is as nothing--I myself More apt to let the secret out myself Without your help at all--Come, come, cheer up! And if you sing again, 'Come weal, come woe,' Let it be that; for we will never part Until you give the signal. FIFE. 'Tis a bargain. ROS. Now to begin, then. 'Follow, follow me, 'You fairy elves that be.' FIFE. Ay, and go on-- Something of 'following darkness like a dream,' For that we're after. ROS. No, after the sun; Trying to catch hold of his glittering skirts That hang upon the mountain as he goes. FIFE. Ah, he's himself past catching--as you spoke He heard what you were saying, and--just so-- Like some scared water-bird, As we say in my country, _dove_ below. ROS. Well, we must follow him as best we may. Poland is no great country, and, as rich In men and means, will but few acres spare To lie beneath her barrier mountains bare. We cannot, I believe, be very far From mankind or their dwellings. FIFE. Send it so! And well provided for man, woman, and beast. No, not for beast. Ah, but my heart begins To yearn for her-- ROS. Keep close, and keep your feet From serving you as hers did. FIFE. As for beasts, If in default of other entertainment, We should provide them with ourselves to eat-- Bears, lions, wolves-- ROS. Oh, never fear. FIFE. Or else, Default of other beasts, beastlier men, Cannibals, Anthropophagi, bare Poles Who never knew a tailor but by taste. ROS. Look, look! Unless my fancy misconceive With twilight--down among the rocks there, Fife-- Some human dwelling, surely-- Or think you but a rock torn from the rocks In some convulsion like to-day's, and perch'd Quaintly among them in mock-masonry? FIFE.
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