[_Taking her hand._]
THE LADY
Refrain, refrain!
PIERROT[_With passion._]
I am but studious, so do not stir;
Thou art my star, I thine astronomer!
Geometry was founded on thy lip.
[_Kisses her hand._]
THE LADY
This attitude becomes not scholarship!
Thy zeal I praise; but, prithee, not so fast,
Nor leave the rudiments until the last.
Science applied is good, but 'twere a schism
To study such before the catechism,
Bear thee more modestly, while I submit
Some easy problems to confirm thy wit.
PIERROT
In all humility my mind I pit
Against her problems which would test my wit.
THE LADY [_Questioning him from a little book bound deliciously in
vellum._]
What is Love?
Is it a folly,
Is it mirth, or melancholy?
Joys above,
Are there many, or not any?
What is love?
PIERROT[_Answering in a very humble attitude of scholarship._]
If you please,
A most sweet folly!
Full of mirth and melancholy;
Both of these!
In its sadness worth all gladness,
If you please!
THE LADY
Prithee where,
Goes Love a-hiding?
Is he long in his abiding
Anywhere?
Can you bind him when you find him;
Prithee, where?
PIERROT
With spring days
Love comes and dallies:
Upon the mountains, through the valleys
Lie Love's ways.
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