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.
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