The Prince, being in the wood near the tower,
in the evening
I could not even think
What made me weep that day,
When out of the council-hall
The courtiers pass'd away,—
The Witch
Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair!
Rapunzel
Is it not true that every day
She climbeth up the same strange way,
Her scarlet cloak spread broad and gay,
Over my golden hair?
The Prince
And left me there alone,
To think on what they said;
"Thou art a king's own son,
'Tis fit that thou should'st wed."
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