pardon of her in St. John's name. They say that for his sake she'll
give away the shoes off her feet.

Woodc. I would not stand in your shoes for all the top and lop in
the forest. Murder! Here comes a ghost! Run up the bank--shove
the jackass into the ditch.

[A white figure comes up the path with lights.]

Peas. A ghost or a watchman, and one's as bad as the other--so we
may take to cover for the time.

[Elizabeth enters, meanly clad, carrying her new-born infant;
Isentrudis following with a taper and gold pieces on a salver.
Elizabeth passes, singing.]

Deep in the warm vale the village is sleeping,
Sleeping the firs on the bleak rock above;
Nought wakes, save grateful hearts, silently creeping
Up to the Lord in the might of their love.

What Thou hast given to me, Lord, here I bring Thee,
Odour, and light, and the magic of gold;
Feet which must follow Thee, lips which must sing Thee,
Limbs which must ache for Thee ere they grow old.

What Thou hast given to me, Lord, here I tender,
Life of mine own life, the fruit of my love;
Take him, yet leave him me, till I shall render
Count of the precious charge, kneeling above.