R
Have I lived like Cain,
But to make good one hour of Life and Sun?
And have I got this Hamelin in my hands,
To make it pay its thousand cruelties
With such a fool's one-more? . . .
--You know right well,
'T was not the thousand guilders that I wanted
For thee, or me, or any!--Ten would serve.
But there it ached; _there_, in the money-bag
That serves the town of Hamelin for an heart!
That stab was mortal! And I thrust it deep.
Life, life, I wanted; safety,--sun and wind!--
And but to show them how that daily fear
They call their faith, is made of blasphemies
That would put out the Sun and Moon and Stars,
Early, for some last Judgment!
[He laughs, up to the tree-tops]
And the Lord,
Where will He get His harpers and singing-men
And them that laugh for joy?--From Hamelin guilds?--
Will you imagine Kurt the Councillor
Trying to sing?
[He looks at his pipe again; then listens intently.

MICHAEL
His lean throat freeze!--But she--
Barbara! Barbara!--

PIPER
Patience. She will come,
Dressed like a bride.

MICHAEL
Ah, do not mock me so.

PIPER
I mock not.

MICHAEL
She will never look at me.

PIPER
Rather than be a nun, I swear she will
Look at thee twice,--and with a long, long look.
[Chant approaches in the distance, coming from Hamelin.

VOICES
Dies irae, dies illa
Solvet saeclum in favilla,
Teste David cum Sibylla.

Quantus tremor est futurus,
Quando judex est venturus,
Cuncta stricte discussurus!

PIPER
Bah, how they whine! Why do they drag it so?

MICHAEL
[overcome]
Oh, can it be the last of all? O Saints!--
O blessed Francis, Ursula, Catherine!
Hubert--and Crispin--Pantaleone--Paul!
George o' the Dragon!--Michael the Archangel!

PIPER
Michael Sword-eater, canst not swallow a chant?
The well, the well!--Take care.

VOICES
[nearer]
Inter oves locum praesta,
Et ab hoedis me sequestra,
Statuens in parte dextra.

Confutatis maledictis,
Flammis acribus addictis:
Voca me cum benedictis.

[MICHAEL climbs down the ancient well, reaching his head up warily,
to see.

The PIPER waves to him debonairly, points to the tree-tops, left,
and stands a moment showing in his face his disapproval of the
music. He fingers his pipe. As the hymn draws near, he scrambles
among the bushes, left, and disappears.

Enter slowly, chanting, the company of burghers from Hamelin,--men
together first, headed by priests; then the women.--ANSELM and all
the townsfolk appear (savi