LAZARO: Why, my lord, once upon a time
I fell in love with one who would not have me
Either for love or money: so at last
I go to a certain witch--tell him my story:
Whereon he bids me do this; cut a lock
From my love's head and bring it to him. Well,
I watch'd my opportunity, and one day,
When she was fast asleep, adroitly lopp'd
A lovely forlock from what seem'd her hair,
But was an hair-loom rather from her wig
Descended from a head that once was young
As I thought her. For, giving it the witch,
To work his charm with, in the dead of night,
When I was waiting for my love to come,
Into my bed-room the dead woman stalk'd
To whom the lock of hair had once belong'd,
And claim'd me for her own. O Lord, how soon
"Sweetheart" and "Deary" chang'd to "Ghoul!"
And flesh and blood to ice!