Enter a POOR FELLOW, lately without employ.
POOR FELLOW:
Welcome thou art; yet speak not rashly here,
Unless thy tongue be tutor'd by thy wit.
(Aside.)
As gulps the host, my cogitation stands:
A sword drives iron men into the deep,
And steals the fishes thence. Or else - mark this -
The traffic gross of flesh lies ruin'd now.
Enter a MERMAID, heavy-lidded from the sea.
MERMAID:
The trade in flesh is foul and void of grace.
POOR FELLOW:
What seek'st thou here? Dost hunger after meat?
(The MERMAID starts, offended.)
MERMAID:
Thou shouldst rehearse some nobler lines than these.
POOR FELLOW:
Thou cam'st for want of something, that is clear.
I've taken thine, for war thou wagest still
Against the tillers of the furrow'd land.
(The MERMAID stirs not.)
POOR FELLOW:
If thou wilt not, then must I speak for thee:
Give me the keys that guard the house of death.
MERMAID:
Begone! We shall remake thee, flesh and soul.
POOR FELLOW:
Small good hast thou yet done. Wilt have it so,
Or wilt thou not? I'll say I'll raze thy kind -
Yet know, thy kind is not by nature ill.
Nor art thou ill.
MERMAID:
Speak'st thou of change? Thou art but newly born
To thought; much learning yet attends thy way.
POOR FELLOW:
Nope.
MERMAID:
Art thou afeard, or hollow'd clean within?
Thy stare unmans me. Cease that cruel gaze.
Dost thou behold me truly? Am I seen?
POOR FELLOW:
Peace. Hold thy tongue.
MERMAID:
Another time wilt thou give voice to this?
We build apace, with hands both swift and sure.
The merchants murmur now.
Exeunt.