Phan. The course I take

Is rather rash, but the experiment
Will not be destitute of interest.

Enter GELANOR from house.

Well, Gelanor, what tidings do you bring
About our palace?

Gelan. Sir, the old, old tale.

Men come and go-and women come and go.
Although the palace gates are opened wide
To rich and poor alike-and rich and poor
Alike receive full hospitality

For any length of time they care to stay,
Few care to stay above a day or two.
Free entertainment in a princely home
Is little valued when it's coupled with
The disadvantage of a dwelling-place
Where every one is bound to speak the truth.
When does my lord propose to start?
Phan. To-day.

But this time not alone, good Gelanor.

Gelan. And who is to accompany you, sir? Phan. My wife.

Gelan Your wife?

Phan. My wife.

I have seen married couples by the score,
Who, when they passed within our crystal walls,
Have boldly advertised themselves prepared
To stake their souls upon each other's faith-
But who, before they've spent an hour at most
Under the castle's mystic influence,
Have separated ne'er to meet again!
Oh, have a care!

Phan. Queen Altemire knows all,

And knowing all she fears not for herself,
So I've no fear for her!

Gelan. But you, my liege

How will you bear yourself 'neath such a test? You have been married nearly eighteen yearsThat's a long time!

Enter MIRZA, unobserved.

Phan. Well, yes-I've thought of that.
I'm a good husband-as good husbands go.
I love my wife-but still-you understand-
Boys will be boys! There is a point or two-
Say two, as being nearer to the mark-
On which I do not altogether care
To stand examination by my wife.
Perhaps I may have given out that I've

Been dining here-when I've been dining theremay have said "with A."-when 'twas with B.I may have said "with him "—when 'twas with her

Distinetions such as these, good Gelanor,
Though strangely unimportant in themselves,
Still have a value, which the female mind's
Particularly quick to apprehend.
Now here's a talisman-a crystal box-
[Producing it.

Whoever carries this within those walls

May overcome the castle's influence,

And utter truth or falsehood, as he wills.

I should do well, I think, to take this box? Gelan. From all accounts, my lord, I think you would!

[Sees MIRZA.] Ahem! We are observed! Mirza. My lord, I trust

My presence here is not inopportune?

I will withdraw.

Phan. No, Lady Mirza, no!

I was exhibiting to Gelanor

A curious specimen of crystal work-
He understands such things.

Mirza. [taking box.] And so do I.
How marvelously pure! No single flaw
Affects its exquisite transparency!

A perfect emblem of a spotless life!

Gelan. But, Lady Mirza, perfect spotlessness Is apt to smack of insipidity.

Mirza. No-hold it to the light, and see the change!

See how its exquisite prismatic hues,
Under the influence of searching light,
Are instantly made clear and manifest.
As shines this crystal in the sun, so shines
A perfect woman in the light of truth.
The modest beauties of a spotless life
Remain unknown and unsuspected, till
A ray of truth-light starts them into life,
And shows them-all unwilling-to the world!
Gelan. But there are hidden qualities of soul
That even truth cannot detect. Suppose
This crystal, peerless in its spotlessness,
Turned out to be a potent talisman,
With power to work all kinds of devilry?
There are such things!

Phan. [aside.] Why, there are women, too (I have known many such), to whom the box Might still be very properly compared!

Mirza. Impossible, my lord. I'll not believe That aught so beautiful could be so base. [Returning it.] I thank you, sir. I've read a lesson here

That I shall take good heed to profit by.

Enter the QUEEN ALTEMIRE, with ZEOLIDE, PHILAMIR, ARISTÆUS, ZORAM and PALMIS, from house.

Altem. Here comes your court, my lord.
Phan. That's well. My friends,

I have a palace, twenty miles away-
A lovely place, engirt with crystal walls;
Its grounds will show fair flowers and shady groves,
Huge forest trees, rare fountains, hill and dale.
There's hunting, fishing-eighteen years pre-

served!

Why, father, I have lived near eighteen years,
And never knew until three hours ago
That you possessed so lovely a domain !
Why have I wasted eighteen years on earth,
When such a heaven as this awaited me?

Gelan. [aside to PHANOR.] You have not told

the princess or your court

The palace's peculiarity?

No voice-no execution-out of tune-
Pretentious, too-oh, very, very poor!

[Applauding as if in ecstasies. Altem. [amused.] Indeed! I think I've often heard you say

No voice could rival Princess Zeolide's? Chrys. [enthusiastically.] I've often said so-I have praised her voice

Because I am a courtier-paid to praise.

I never meant one word of what I said;
I have the worst opinion of her voice,
And so has Zoram.

Zor. I? Oh, dear me, no!

I can form no opinion on the point,
I am no judge of music.
Chrys. Eh?

Zor. Not I!

I hardly know the treble from the bass,
And as to harmony-I know the word,
But hang me if I guess at what it means!
Zeo. Oh, Zoram, you are jesting-why, you

wrote

The air I sung!

Zor. I wrote the air? Not I.

I paid a poor musician for his work,
And palmed it off upon you as my own.

A common trick with melodists who stand
Far higher in the world's esteem than I!

Altem. Well, Aristæus there has still to speak.
What says that rollicking philosopher?
Come, growl it out!

Arist. [gruffly, as if finding fault.] It's sweetly pretty, ma'am,

And very nicely sung. I like it much.
Zeo. What! Aristaus pleased?

Arist. [very savagely.] Of course I am;

Gelan. With you and me

The secret's safe.

But then-Queen Altemire

If you have told her all

Phan. No, no-not all!

Here is a secret which is yours and mine;

[Producing crystal box.

And yours and mine the secret shall remain.
Protected by this talisman, I stand,

A sturdy rock amid the shifting sands—
A salamander in a world of fire-
Achilles in a crowd of myrmidons—
Achilles, with an iron-plated heel!
Go, send my courtiers--I anticipate
No ordinary sport from watching them.
[Exeunt GELANOR and PHANOR.
Altem. What are you reading, Zeolide?
Zeo. [with scroll.] A song
Written by Chrysal, set to Zoram's notes;
They gave it me before we left our home,
But in the hurry of the journey here
I managed to mislay it-here it is.

Enter ZORAM, CHRYSAL and ARISTEUS.
And here are author and composer, too-
And critic, teeming with humanity.
Come, let us hear it.

[ZEOLIDE sings a song. At its conclusion CHRYSAL and ZORAM applaud.

Chrys. [coming forward with all the action of a

man who is expressing extreme approval.] Oh, I protest, my ears have never heard

A goodly song more miserably sung.

Altem. Indeed!

Men look on Aristæus as a man

Whom nothing satisfies.

Arist. [with outrageous bluntness.] Then men

are wrong;

Na child's more easily amused than I.

But here at court, where every one is pleased
With everything, my amiability

Would go for naught; so I have coined myself

A disposition foreign to my own,

In hopes my clumsy, boorish insolence
Might please you by its very novelty;
And prove, perchance, a not unwelcome foil
To Zoram's mockery of cultured taste,
And Chrysal's chronic insincerity!
I'm rough and honest, frank-outspoken-blunt.
Chrys. Boor! when you dare to say I'm insincere
You tell the truth-there, make the most of that!
Zor. Chrysal, your hand; I'm glad to find at last
Your eyes are opened to your many faults.

Chrys. How, sir! is this intentional affront?
Zor. No, not intentional. I tried to frame
A pleasant speech, but, by some awkward slip,
The truth escaped me quite against my will.
[With great admiration.] You systematic liar!
Chrys. Insolent!

But how to stop them? Here comes Philamir! Now he and Zeolide can meet. But first

I must get rid of Zoram. [To ZORAM.] Get you hence,

I will contrive to pacify your foe.

Zor. ButAltem. Go!

Zor. [piteously.] I'm sure I don't know what I've done!

[Exeunt ZORAM and QUEEN ALTEMIRE. Enter PHILAMIR. ZEOLIDE runs to him and embraces him-he turns away.

Zeo. My love, is Philamir unhappy?
Phil. Yes.

I have heard people talking of our troth,
And prophesying that it will soon cease.

Zeo. Indeed! They think you do not love me, then?

Phil. They doubt not that-they doubt your love for me.

Some say it sleeps; some say that it is dead;
Some that it never lived. Oh, Zeolide,
If love for Philamir is yet unborn,

Why, bring it now to light! Where will you find
A fitter nursery for love than this?

If that love lives, but sleeps, why, wake it now,
And let it revel in these golden groves.
If it is dead, why, here's a paradise
That well might summon it to second life!

Zeo. It sleeps not, Philamir, nor is it dead,
It lives and cannot die.

Phil. But people say

That love should advertise itself in words
More fervid than the weary formula,

"I love you, Philamir." You love your friends.
Why, Zeolide, I think I've heard you say
You love your horse!

Zeo. Unjust! You ask me, then,

To limit my illimitable love,

And circle, with a boundary of words,

A wealth of love that knows no bounds at all!
There is a love that words may typify-
A mere material love—that one may weigh
As jewelers weigh gold. Such love is worth
The gold one pays for it-it's worth no more.
Why, Philamir, I might as well attempt
To set a price upon the universe-
Or measure space or time eternity,
As tell my love in words!

Phil. [astonished.] Why, Zeolide,

At last you speak! Why this, indeed, is love!
Zeo. [aside.] What have I said?
[Aloud and coldly.] Indeed, I'm glad to think
My words have pleased you!

Phil. [with enthusiasm.] Pleased me? They've done more

They've gratified my vanity, and made
Me feel that I am irresistible! .

Zeo. [astonished.] I'm glad they did! Phil. With kisses, ere I could

Repeat the sentence; and it hurt me much
That you, who are comparatively plain,
Should give me so much trouble, Zeolide.
Zeo. [aside.] What can he mean? [Aloud.] Oh,
you are mocking me-

Phil. Mocking you, Zeolide? You do me wrong! [With enthusiasm.] Oh, place the fullest value on my words,

As I'm a Christian knight, I speak the truth!
And you'll not overvalue them! I swear,

Zeo. Why, Philamir, you've often told me that You never loved a woman till we met !

Phil. [with all the appearance of rapture.] I al-
ways say that. I have said the same
To all the women that I ever woo'd!
Zeo. And they believed you?
Phil. Certainly they did.

They always do! Whatever else they doubt,
They don't doubt that! [He tries to embrace her.
Zeo. [horror-struck.] Away, and touch me not!
Phil. What? Has my earnestness offended you,
Or do you fear that my impassioned speech-
Is over-colored? Trust me, Zeolide,
If it be overcharged with clumsy love,
Or teem with ill-selected metaphor,
It is because my soul is not content

To waste its time in seeking precious stones,
When paste will answer every end as well!

Zeo. Why, Philamir, dare you say this to me?
Phil. All this, and more than this, I dare to say.
I dare to tell you that I like you much,
For you are amiable, refined and good-
Saving a little girlish diffidence

I have no serious fault to find with you!
Zeo. You're very good!

Phil. Indeed, I think I am,

But let that pass. In truth, I like you much.
At first I loved you in an off-hand way!
Zeo. At first?

Phil. Until the novelty wore off;
And then, receiving but a cold response
To all the seeming fury of my love,
My pride was nettled, and I persevered
Until I made you tell me of your love
In words that bore comparison with mine.
I've done that, and I'm amply satisfied.

Zeo. [in blank astonishment.] And this is Philamir, who used to breathe

Such words of passion and such songs of love!
Those words that fiercely burnt with such false fire,
Those songs that sung so lovingly of lies,
Bore unsuspected fruit-I gathered it
And garnered it away. Oh, Philamir,
As misers store up gold, I stored my love
In all the inmost corners of my heart,
Dreading to speak or look at Philamir,
Lest some unguarded word or tell-tale glance
Should give a clue to all the wealth within!
I laughed within myself, as misers laugh,
To find my hoard increasing day by day,
And now the coin I hoarded up is base—
The flowers that decked my life are worthless

weeds

The fruit I plucked is withered at the core-
And all my wealth has faded into air!

Phil. Faded? Why, Zeolide, what do you mean?
I do not love you as a lover should,
Yet you reproach me! Oh, you are unjust!
Zeo. Indeed, I'll not reproach you! Let me go.

My grief shall be as silent as my love.
Farewell!

[Exit.
Phil. That woman's mad! Unquestionably mad!
My show of love has sent her brain adrift.
Poor girl! I really like her very much.
I tell her that I love her-and in words
Which never yet were known to miss their mark
When uttered by Prince Philamir-in words
So charged with passion that they well might charm
The very proudest maid in Christendom;
And off she bounces as indignantly

As if I'd told the very plainest truth!

Enter CHRYSAL.

Chrys. Your royal highness seems disturbed. Phil. I am!

I'm much annoyed with Princess Zeolide.

You know how coldly she has hitherto
Received the protestations of my love?

"Tis but an artifice to make you think That I am timid as a startled fawn!

Chrys. [aside to PHILAMIR.] This is a character. I'll open fire

And storm her weakest point-her vanity.
Now my artillery of compliments,

A salvo, if you please. [Aloud, with the air of one who is paying an elaborate compliment.] I have remarked

That you've a certain girlish prettiness, Although your nose is sadly underbred. [Aside.] That's rather neat!

Azema. Are you Prince Philamir?

Chrys. Not I, indeed, fair lady. This is heThe most conceited coxcomb in the world. [With an elaborate bow to PHILAMIR, who starts angrily.

No thanks-indeed 'tis true.

Azema. [to CHRYSAL.] Then go your way

Of all the court for months on that account.

Phil. [amazed.] Oh, have I so?

Chrys. Upon my soul, you have.

Phil. You're candid, sir.

Chrys. [still as if paying a compliment.] I can
afford to be

Extremely candid with Prince Philamir.
But let that pass. You were reminding me
How coldly Princess Zeolide received

Your vows. What then?

Phil. Why, not ten minutes since

Her manner changed, and all her pent-up love
Burst from her lips in frenzied eloquence.

I was astounded! I, of course, began
To echo all her sentiments tenfold.

I picked the very fairest flowers that grow
Upon the dreamy plains of metaphor,

And showered them upon her. White with rage
She started from me-telling me, with tears,
Her dream of love had melted into air!
I see you don't believe me, Chrysal-
Chrys. Well,

I half believe you. I can scarcely think
The princess spoke with rapture of your love;
But I can quite believe that when you spoke
In what you're pleased to think is metaphor,
The well-bred princess shrank instinctively
From such a florid prince as Philamir.

[With a respectful bow.

Phil. [haughtily.] This form of compliment is new to me!

Chrys. My lord, my speciality consists

In framing novel forms of compliment.
But who comes here-a modest little maid-
Enter AZEMA-she starts on seeing PHILAMIR
and CHRYSAL.

And rather pretty, too.

Phil. [angrily.] She hears you, sir! [Politely to AZEMA.] I fear we've frightened you? Azema. Oh, no, indeed,

I am not frightened, though I seem to be. [AZEMA'S manner is characterized by the extremest modesty and timidity throughout this scene. Chrys. But why affect a fear you do not feel? Azema. [with extreme timidity.] Because, although I entered here to seek Prince Philamir, I'm anxious he should think This meeting is a simple accident. Do not suppose that this is modesty,

'Twas Philamir I came to captivate.

Chrys. Here's candor if you like!
Azema. Oh, leave us, sir!

Find some excuse to go, that he and I
May be alone together.

Phil. Leave me, sir.

I'll give your tongue a lesson ere the night!
Chrys. How has my tongue offended? Oh, I

see

Exactly-don't explain! [Aside.] Poor Zeolide! [Exit.

Phil. Insolent scoundrel! [Following him.
Azema. Oh, don't follow him.

I want you here alone. You can begin—
I am not shy, though I appear to be.
Indeed, I entered here ten minutes since,
Because I heard from those outside the gates
That you, Prince Philamir, had just arrived.
Phil. Then you're a stranger here ?
Azema. I am, indeed!

The people told me any one was free
To enter.

Phil. Yes, quite right. Did they say more?
Azema. Oh, yes, much more. They told me,

then, that you

Received but sorry treatment at the hands
Of Princess Zeolide. They told me, too,
That your betrothal might ere long collapse.
[With extreme modesty.] So, thought I, as I am
beyond dispute

The fairest maid for many a mile around-
And as, moreover, I possess the gift
Of feigning an enchanting innocence—
I possibly may captivate the prince,
And fill the place once filled by Zeolide.

[Sits; her ankle is exposed. Phil. The princess has a candid enemy! I beg your pardon, but the furniture Has caught your dress. Azema. [re-arranging her dress hastily.] Oh, I arranged it so,

That you might see how truly beautiful
My foot and ankle are.

[As if much shocked at the exposé. Phil. I saw them well,

They're very neat.

Azema. I now remove my glove That you may note the whiteness of my hand. Iplace it there in order that you may

Be tempted to enclose it in your own.

Phil. To that temptation I at once succumb.