_Gla._ I am Glaia. That is all I know, but Hubert says Some day he'll tell me more. I do not care. I love to be a mystery to myself. _Hen._ [_Aside_] She's nobly born, and kept from her estate; But how should she be honest Hubert's charge? _Gla._ What say you, Henry? _Hen._ 'Tis so strange to find An angel housing in this black-browed castle, Converting war's grim seat to paradise. Hast always lived here? _Gla._ O, behind these walls? No, I've a home deep in the happy forest. I do not like this place--these huge black rocks Piled up so high, with caves i' the ground, and holes To shoot out arrows. I walk on tiptoe here, Afraid I'll wake the ghosts that sleep i' the corners. But in the forest I can shout and run, And everything I wake will laugh and sing. _Hen._ Where is this happy place? _Gla._ I can not tell. 'Twas night when we came here, and Hubert says That none must know the way. I wonder why. Do you live in a castle? _Hen._ When I'm not At wars. _Gla._ O me, I would not live in one To please---- _Hen._ The king? _Gla._ No, not to please the king. _Hen._ If he were lonely, Glaia? _Gla._ Lonely? O, He is to wed the princess Margaret. Are you not glad? He'll not be lonely then. She's fair and good, they say. _Hen._ But not as you. Her princess feet like well the solid earth. She is a flower that sips of sun and dew. But feedeth most from root-cups firm in ground; While you are made of music, love, and air,-- A being of the sky--a lover's star, Although he be a king. The grace of heaven About your beauty plays, and drops as soft Upon my eyes as light from the lark's wing. But I must leave you now. Sweet, take this gift. [_Gives her his jewelled belt_] And know my name and place are worthy yours, Though you should be a princess, as I think. See, here's a jewel in this belt. I dare To part with it, though wise men say my life Is safe but when I wear it. 'Tis the stone Of Wales, and blessed by magic of the seers That in that country dwell. _Gla._ Then keep it. Ay, You must. _Hen._ No, no! I have a fear some harm Will touch you, me away. Keep you the charm, And I will take your lute. In lonely hours I'll touch the chords and think thou'rt listening. [_Exit_] _Gla._ A lovely boy! O me, these dreadful wars! Eldra's a goose to call the king's men rude. I wish he had not gone. I'll play again And see who'll come. Ah, now I have no lute. No matter, I will sing. [_Sings_]