Chapter 8

ELEANOR. FITZURSE.

ELEANOR. Up from the salt lips of the land we two Have track'd the King to this dark inland wood; And somewhere hereabouts he vanish'd. Here His turtle builds: his exit is our adit: Watch! he will out again, and presently, Seeing he must to Westminster and crown Young Henry there to-morrow.

FITZURSE. We have watch'd So long in vain, he hath pass'd out again, And on the other side. [_A great horn winded_. Hark! Madam!

ELEANOR. Ay, How ghostly sounds that horn in the black wood! [_A countryman flying_. Whither away, man? what are you flying from?

COUNTRYMAN. The witch! the witch! she sits naked by a great heap of gold in the middle of the wood, and when the horn sounds she comes out as a wolf. Get you hence! a man passed in there to-day: I holla'd to him, but he didn't hear me: he'll never out again, the witch has got him. I daren't stay--I daren't stay!

ELEANOR. Kind of the witch to give thee warning tho'. [_Man flies_. Is not this wood-witch of the rustic's fear Our woodland Circe that hath witch'd the King? [_Horn sounded. Another flying_.

FITZURSE. Again! stay, fool, and tell me why thou fliest.

COUNTRYMAN. Fly thou too. The King keeps his forest head of game here, and when that horn sounds, a score of wolf-dogs are let loose that will tear thee piecemeal. Linger not till the third horn. Fly! [_Exit_.

ELEANOR. This is the likelier tale. We have hit the place. Now let the King's fine game look to itself. [_Horn_.

FITZURSE. Again!-- And far on in the dark heart of the wood I hear the yelping of the hounds of hell.

ELEANOR. I have my dagger here to still their throats.

FITZURSE. Nay, Madam, not to-night--the night is falling. What can be done to-night?

ELEANOR. Well--well--away.