that will set the echoes of Merry-mount a-ringing, and make the lean
Puritans in the valley to hold their ears.

ALL.
A tune! A tune!

FAUNCH.
What tune will ye have, Simon Scarlett?

SCARLETT.
Let it be a maypole dance, Faunch the fiddler! And a merry one! (Faunch
begins to play.) Let's see you foot it! (The folk of Merrymount begin
to dance.) Oh, bravely, bravely! If the Puritans could see you you'd be
led to the stocks and the whipping-post!

LACKLEATHER
(darkly).
'Twill take less than a dance to lead us there! You know right well
that the Puritans have sworn that if they catch us straying beyond the
bounds of Merrymount 'twill be the stocks and the whipping-post, and
that without mercy!

SCARLETT
(with a laugh and a shrug).
The stocks and the whipping-post! Come, drive such thoughts from your
head! Look! Yonder comes Jock with a tankard of apple juice! Cups for
us all! Quick, Lackleather! (Carved wooden cups are taken from the
trunk of a hollow tree.) Come, where are we all?

TIB.