Original Plays [First Series]

SCENE.--_Interior of the Palace of Truth._

_Enter GÉLANOR, meeting KING PHANOR and QUEEN ALTEMIRE and ZEOLIDE._

_Gélan._ Welcome, my lord! Madam, I humbly trust The palace realizes all the hopes That you had entertained concerning it.

_Altem._ Indeed, it far exceeds them, Gélanor. There is no lovelier abode on earth! And so says Zeolide.

_Zeo._ Indeed she does! 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?

_Gélan._ (_aside to PHANOR_). You have not told the Princess or your Court The palace’s peculiarity?

_Phan._ Not I. The secret is our own, as yet-- The Queen’s, and yours, and mine.

_Gélan._ 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 GÉLANOR 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 ARISTÆUS._

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. (_Clapping hands_) Oh, very poor indeed--oh, very weak, No voice--no execution--out of tune-- Pretentious too--oh, very, very poor! (_Applauding as if in ecstacies._)

_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! Aristæus pleased?

_Arist._ (_very savagely_). Of course I am; I’m always pleased with every thing.

_Altem._ Indeed! Men look on Aristæus as a man Whom nothing satisfies.

_Arist._ (_with outrageous bluntness_). Then men are wrong, No child’s more easily amused than I. But, here at Court, where every one is pleased With every thing, 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!

_Zor._ Sir!

_Chrys._ This shall cost or you or me his life. In half an hour you shall hear from me! [_Exit CHRYSAL._

_Zor._ (_in terror_). What _have_ I said?

_Altem._ (_aside_). These boobies must not fight, 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._ But--

_Altem._ 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 can not 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._ Indeed!

_Phil._ Indeed, dear Zeolide, they have. Why how you frown!

_Zeo._ (_coldly_). If such a love as mine Serves but to feed your sense of vanity, I think it is misplaced.

_Phil._ My vanity Must needs be fed, and with such love as yours. I have worked hard to gain it, Zeolide! You are not nearly as attractive as Five hundred other ladies I could name, Who, when I said I loved them, stopped my lips--

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

_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 always say that. I have said the same To all the women that I ever woo’d!

_Zeo._ And they believ’d 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 over-charged 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 clew 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?

_Chrys._ (_politely_). I do indeed. You’ve been the laughing-stock 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 ten-fold. 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 AZÈMA--she starts on seeing PHILAMIR and CHRYSAL._

And rather pretty too.

_Phil._ (_angrily_). She hears you, sir! (_Politely to AZÈMA_) I fear we’ve frightened you?

_Azèma._ Oh no, indeed, I am not frightened, though I seem to be.

(_AZÈMA’S manner is characterized by the extremest modesty and timidity throughout this scene._)

_Chrys._ But why affect a fear you do not feel?

_Azèma._ (_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, ’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!

_Azèma._ Are you Prince Philamir?

_Chrys._ Not I, indeed, fair lady. This is he-- The most conceited coxcomb in the world (_with an elaborate bow to PHILAMIR, who starts angrily_). No thanks--indeed ’tis true.

_Azèma._ (_to CHRYSAL_). Then go your way-- I don’t want you! I only want the prince. ’Twas Philamir I came to captivate.

_Chrys._ Here’s candor if you like!

_Azèma._ 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._)

_Azèma._ 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?

_Azèma._ I am, indeed! The people told me any one was free To enter.

_Phil._ Yes, quite right. Did they say more?

_Azèma._ 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.

_Azèma._ (_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.

_Azèma._ I now remove my glove That you may note the whiteness of my hand. I place it there in order that you may Be tempted to inclose it in your own.

_Phil._ To that temptation I at once succumb. (_Taking her hand--she affects to withdraw it angrily._)

_Azèma._ (_with affected indignation._) Go on! If you had any enterprise, You’d gently place your arm around my waist And kiss me. (_Struggling to release herself_)

_Phil._ It might anger you!

_Azèma._ Oh, no! It’s true that I should start with every show Of indignation, just in order to Maintain my character for innocence-- But that is all.

_Phil._ (_puts his arm round her and kisses her_). There, then--’tis done!

_Azèma._ (_starting, with a great show of rage_). How, sir? I think it’s time that I should take my leave. (_Very indignantly_) I shall be in the Avenue of Palms At ten o’clock to-night. I mention this That you may take the hint and be there, too! (_going._)

_Phil._ One moment, pray. Let me assure you now, That such an unmistakable coquette, And one who shows her cards so candidly, Will not supplant the Princess Zeolide!

_Azèma._ (_surprised_). Supplant the Princess Zeolide? Why, sir, By what authority do you imply That I have cherished any such design?

_Phil._ Your own admission.

_Azèma._ Oh, impossible! (_Indignantly_) But as it seems that I’ve no chance with you, I’ll try the gentleman who left us here. He comes!

_Enter CHRYSAL._

Oh, sir, I crave a word with you! Are you a wealthy man? (_with extreme delicacy of manner._)

_Chrys._ I am, indeed.

_Azèma._ And you’ve a title?

_Chrys._ Yes, of highest rank.

_Azèma._ A bachelor?

_Chrys._ A bachelor as yet, Betrothed to Palmis.

_Azèma._ (_shrinking_). Oh! (_Hopefully._) But possibly You do not love her much!

_Chrys._ (_with enthusiasm_). Oh, not at all!

_Azèma._ You’ll do--give me your arm. (_He does so--she shrinks._) Oh, sir, indeed-- (_Impatiently to CHRYSAL, who hesitates_) Do take my hand and put it through your arm. (_He does so_) That’s it! Oh, sir, indeed I know you not!

[_Exeunt CHRYSAL and AZÈMA,--AZÈMA affecting to try and release herself. PHILAMIR stands astounded for a moment._

_Phil._ I’ve found a clew that solves these mysteries! This palace is enchanted ground! It’s plain That there’s some subtle influence at work, Affecting everybody here--but me! Chrysal, the honey-tongued, turns out to be A blunt and scurrilous outspoken boor; Zoram, the musical enthusiast, Can hardly tell the treble from the bass; Then Aristæus, surly, blunt and gruff, Turns out to be the gentlest soul alive; And, most inexplicable change of all, The amiable but prudish Zeolide Becomes a foolish vixen, blind with love, Maddened with jealous and unreasoning rage! Then comes a girl--a commonplace coquette-- Who, while she lays her plans with practiced skill, Explains their aim, and holds them to the light That all may see their arrant hollowness! It’s evident there’s some enchantment here That shows up human nature as it is, And I alone resist its influence! Ah, here is Mirza--lovely paragon-- I’ll notice how it operates on her.

_Enter MIRZA._

_Mirza._ (_starts_). I beg your pardon. I was looking for My diary; I’ve dropped it hereabouts.

_Phil._ Allow me to assist you in your search?

_Mirza._ (_hastily_). No, no; that must not be. My diary Must ne’er be seen by other eyes than mine!

_Phil._ Indeed! and why?

_Mirza._ My very inmost thoughts-- The secret utterances of my heart-- Are there inscribed. I would not for my life, That any eyes but mine should rest on it.

_Phil._ Can Lady Mirza harbor any thought That all the world may not participate? I’ll not believe it.

_Mirza._ (_eagerly_). Hush--I charge you, sir! Ask me no questions here--for I have learnt That this is fairy ground, where every one Is bound, against his will, to speak the truth. If you interrogate me, I am bound To answer truly. I need say no more To such a courteous knight as Philamir.

_Phil._ (_aside_). It is then as I thought! (_Aloud_) I guessed the truth-- This palace doubtless is enchanted ground, And I alone resist its influence!

_Mirza._ Indeed!

_Phil._ I had occasion some time since To feign unbounded love for Zeolide (For whom I don’t particularly care): Well, notwithstanding my indifference, I spoke with all my usual gush of love, From which I venture to conclude that I Am unaffected by this magic power.

_Mirza._ You do not love the Princess Zeolide? You who professed unutterable love?

_Phil._ I liked her well enough at first, but now I’m weary of my liking. She displays So much unreasonable petulance, Such causeless anger--such unbridled wrath, That I’m resolved to break the weary link That binds us. I’ll be free to love again. (_Taking MIRZA’S hand_)

_Mirza._ (_releasing herself_). Oh, Philamir! Oh, shame upon you, sir. She loves you! You are loved by Zeolide! Why there’s a heaven opened to your eyes, And you’ll not enter, Philamir! Oh, shame To blight so true a heart as hers! Oh, fool, To throw aside in wrath so fair a prize!

_Phil._ But listen--I’ve a fairer prize in view. Mirza--I love _you_!

_Mirza._ (_shuddering with terror_). Spare me, sir, I pray!

_Phil._ Now by this castle’s mystic influence, I challenge you to answer truthfully-- Do you love me?

_Mirza._ (_shrinking from him_). Have pity, Philamir! Withdraw your question, I beseech you, sir! If you insist, I must perforce reply-- I charge you, on your knighthood, press me not! (_PHILAMIR pauses, struggling with his feelings._)

_Phil._ (_releasing her_). My Lady Mirza, you are free to go. [_Exit MIRZA hastily._ How subtly works the mystic influence, That all seem subject to,--excepting me! And from the fearful ordeal only one Of all the women here comes out unscathed. The peerless Mirza--good, and wise, and pure, Most excellent and unapproachable! To know that Mirza loves me, is to know That she is mortal--that I knew before. To know that Mirza’s worthy of my love, And that, despite the searching influence That I alone resist--oh, this indeed Is happiness!--I’m sure she loves me well!

_Enter ZEOLIDE._

_Zeo._ Indeed she does! If half-an-hour ago She spoke abruptly to her Philamir, She bitterly repents it. Oh, my love, Forgive me, for in truth I love you well!

_Phil._ (_embracing her fondly_). But my remark did not apply to you; I spoke of Lady Mirza.

_Zeo._ (_recoiling_). Mirza?

_Phil._ Yes, I’m quite convinced she loves me!

_Zeo._ Philamir, You should not jest with such a sacred word. You’ve played your joke upon me and you’ve seen How readily I fell into the trap; Let that content you. There--I’m not annoyed-- I’ll not be caught again!

_Phil._ (_earnestly_). Dear Zeolide, Indeed I do not jest--nor did I when You left me in unwarrantable rage. I love the Lady Mirza--she loves me.

_Zeo._ (_horrified_). She told you so?

_Phil._ Well, no. I’m bound to say She did not tell me so in open words; Her love for you restrained her. She’s too good-- Too pure--too honorable--to allow A passion for her dearest friend’s betrothed To master her. You should have heard her plead Your hopeless cause. She struggles with her love, And tries to keep it down--but still she loves.

_Zeo._ (_astounded_). And you return this love?

_Phil._ Most heartily. (_With affectionate gesture_). I’m getting weary of you, and I wish That I could find sufficient argument To justify me in releasing you. (_She shrinks from him._) Why now you frown again! Oh, Zeolide, This willfulness is insupportable!

_Zeo._ (_enraged_). Support it then no longer, Philamir! There--you are free--our bond is at an end; Choose your path, I’ll choose mine. Our roads diverge. We part and may not meet again. Farewell! (_Changing her manner_) Oh, Philamir, heed not my words, I spoke In reckless haste--I spoke my death-warrant! Philamir, do not leave me, let me live; See how I love you! I am at your feet-- I, Zeolide, whom once you thought so cold-- I, Zeolide, who am not wont to kneel! Oh, give me till to-night, and pass the hours That intervene in marshaling the past, And let that plead my cause! You loved me once, You asked me for my love--I gave my life, For I must die if you abandon me! Have mercy on me! Give me till to-night! There’s some enchantment in this fearful place. This is not Philamir--it is his shape, But does not hold his soul. Before the night I’ll seek my father, and I’ll gain from him The key that solves this fearful mystery. Go now--nay, do not speak--no--not a word-- I’ll not believe that this is Philamir. Go, leave me now--and we will meet to-night! [_He hesitates; then exit._ Oh, Philamir, my love, my love, my love! (_She falls sobbing on couch_).

_Enter PALMIS._

_Palmis._ What? Zeolide in tears? Has Philamir Been too emphatic in his vows of love? Have pity on him!

_Zeo._ Palmis, pity _me_-- He loves me not!

_Palmis._ Indeed?

_Zeo._ He told me so.

_Palmis._ (_relieved_). Oho! He told you so?

_Zeo._ Most openly.

_Palmis._ Then there is hope for you. Come dry your eyes; When men are over head and ears in love, They can not tell the truth--they must deceive, Though the deception tell against themselves! Here Chrysal comes--(_astonished_) a lady on his arm!

_Enter CHRYSAL and AZÈMA--he leaves AZÈMA abruptly on seeing PALMIS._

_Palmis._ Why, Chrysal, who is this? Where have you been?

_Chrys._ (_affectionately_). I have been wandering through shady groves With that exceedingly attractive girl.

_Palmis._ You have been flirting, sir?

_Chrys._ (_putting his arm round her waist_). Exceedingly! I always do when I’m away from you.

_Palmis._ (_to AZÈMA_). Oh, you’re a brazen woman!

_Azèma._ (_with great modesty_). That I am! An ordinary every-day coquette, Who lives on admiration, and resolves To gain it by whatever means she can.

_Zeo._ (_aside to PALMIS_). Palmis, there’s some enchantment in this place-- I know not what--it influences all. Do not dismiss him yet, until we learn Its nature!

_Chrys._ (_with affection_). Yes, my Palmis, wait awhile, Do not dismiss me yet; although it’s true I never loved you, yet I want your love Because you have much influence at Court, And have it in your power to help me on To further favor.

_Palmis._ (_astounded_). Chrysal, are you mad? You never loved me?

_Chrys._ (_enthusiastically_). Never, on my soul! In point of fact, I always hated you, And mean to tell you so when I have won The highest rank your mistress can confer. In the mean time, however, I am fain To make you think that I adore you still. Observe the heaving of my swelling heart; My fervid manner--my ecstatic gaze-- It’s all assumed!

_Palmis._ Oh, miserable man! Go--get you hence, sir.

_Chrys._ (_astonished_). Palmis, what on earth Possesses you?

_Palmis._ Don’t speak to me again, I can’t endure you!

_Re-enter ZORAM._

_Zor._ I am glad of this. Dear Palmis, I for many a weary day Have sought to win your love from Chrysal here, By every mean, contemptible device That my unequaled cunning could suggest.

_Chrys._ (_amazed_). And you admit this to my very face?

_Zor._ (_cordially_). With pleasure, Chrysal. I have sought in vain, By daily blackening your character, To sicken pretty Palmis of her love. I’ve told her you’re an unexampled rake, A gambler and a spendthrift, mean, poor, base, Selfish and sordid; cruel, tyrannical; But all in vain, she loves you all the more. (_Taking his hand_) Forget the angry words you spoke to-day; In the glad glow of hope that I shall gain Your Palmis’ love, I freely pardon you.

_Chrys._ (_in furious rage_). This evening, in the Avenue of Palms, I shall await you, sir.

_Zor._ (_in blank astonishment_). Oh dear, oh dear, What _have_ I said?

_Enter GÉLANOR._

_Gélan._ Hush, gentlemen--the Queen.

_Re-enter QUEEN ALTEMIRE hastily._

_Altem._ (_in a rage_). Where is the King? Go, send him here to me. Oh, Zeolide, go, get you hence away, For I have words for Phanor that ’twere best His daughter did not hear.

_Zeo._ My father comes.

_Re-enter PHANOR and MIRZA._

_Altem._ Now, sir, I’ve every reason to believe, From what I’ve heard, that you’re deceiving me! I’ll question you--oh, infamous old man!

_Phan._ (_aside_). The Queen is jealous. Where’s my talisman? (_finds it._) All right--it’s well I have it with me now. (_Aloud_) Interrogate me. Conscious innocence Has little fear of Palaces of Truth!

_Altem._ You have been walking in the shrubbery, What were you doing there?

_Phan._ (_with great show of love for ALTEMIRE_). Why, making love To Mirza. I invariably do Whenever I’ve a chance; but all in vain. She’s a good woman, and despises me. (_To MIRZA_) Haven’t I offered love to you?

_Mirza._ You have.

_Phan._ And you despise me, don’t you?

_Mirza._ Heartily.

_Phan._ (_to ALTEMIRE_). I told you so, and she indorses it. Believe me, I am bound to speak the truth!

_Altem._ (_bitterly_). I do believe you.

_Phan._ (_taking her by the hand_). Thank you, Altemire.

_Altem._ Stand off, don’t touch me, horrible old man! You tell me you’ve made love to Mirza?

_Phan._ (_astonished_). No! Did I say that?

_Altem._ Most unmistakably.

_Phan._ Oh, come, I say!

_Zor._ You did indeed, my lord!

_Phan._ I said that I made love to Mirza?

_Chrys._ Yes, Those were the very words!

_Phan._ Oh, Mirza, come, You can deny this!

_Mirza._ Would, my lord, I could. To spare the Queen I would be silent, but Some unknown power masters me, and makes Me own, against my will, that it was so!

_Altem._ There, sir--you hear her words!

_Phan._ (_aside to GÉLANOR_). Why, Gélanor, How’s this? The talisman is out of gear! (_Showing box to GÉLANOR_).

_Gélan._ Let me examine it. (_Takes it and returns it._) A forgery! A clever imitation; virtueless! It lacks the small inscription on the hinge! (_PHANOR falls breathless into a chair._)

_Phan._ To-morrow morning we go home again!