Why shouldn’t we have dancing? We’re not in Lent.
Yet nobody will pipe or play to us;
And they will never do it if he die.
And that is why you are going.
monk. What folly’s this?
first girl. Well, if you did not do it, speak to him—
Use your authority; make him obey you.
What harm is there in dancing?
monk. Hush! begone!
Go to the fields and watch the hurley players,
Or any other place you have a mind to.
This is not woman’s work.
first girl. Come! let’s away!
We can do nothing here.
monk. The pride of the poets!
Dancing, hurling, the country full of noise,
And King and Church neglected. Seanchan,
I'll take my leave, for you are perishing
Like all that let the wanton imagination
Carry them where it will, and it’s not likely
I'll look upon your living face again.
seanchan. Come nearer, nearer!
monk. Have you some last wish?
seanchan. Stoop down, for I would whisper it in your ear.
Has that wild God of yours, that was so wild
When you’d but lately taken the King’s pay,
Grown any tamer? He gave you all much trouble.
