_Deid._ Fairly asked, Had I not thought of it. We shall import them 320 From other isles. Girl children everywhere Are held of small account: these we will buy, Bartering for them our fruits and tapestries, And chiefly from the country whence thou comest; For there I think the women must be taller And stronger than with us. _Ach._ And who will act Persuader to the maidens of the isle To banish all their lovers? _Deid._ O Pyrrha, shame! Man’s love is nothing; what knowst thou of it To magnify its folly? ’Tis a mischief 330 To thwart our good: therefore I banish it. A woman’s love may be as much to woman As a man’s love can be. ’Tis reasonable This, and no dream. ’Tis my experience. When I am with thee, Pyrrha, I want nothing. No woman sitting by her silly lover Could take such pleasure from his flatteries As I from thy speech. When thou lookest on me I am all joy; and if ’tis so with thee, Why need we argue? Tell me, when I am with thee Dost thou lack aught, or wish I were a man? 341 _Ach._ In truth nay, but... _Deid._ A wretched but: I know What that would say; this thing cannot be done Because ’twas never done. But that’s with me The reason why it should be done. _Ach._ I see. Yet novelty hath no wear. Remember too We must grow old. The spirit of such adventure Tires as the body ages. _Deid._ For that I think I make the best provision. Nay, I have seen Full many an old dame left in last neglect, 350 Whose keen gray eye, peaked face, and silver hair Were god-like set beneath a helm of brass. _Ach._ Here be the maids: ask them their mind at once. _Deid._ Nay, for the world no word. _Enter Chorus, with flowers._ Why run they breathlessly in merry fear? What have ye seen? What now? _Ch._ The king. Fly, fly! _Ach._ Why should we fly the king? _Ch._ A man is with him, and they come this way. _Deid._ Who is it? _Ch._ Nay, we know not. _Deid._ What hath happed? _Ch._ We went forth as ye bade, and all together Ran down the hill, the straightest way we might, Into the copse, and lo! ’twas as thou saidst; 362 The hazels are all felled, but on the ground, That ’neath the straight trunks of the airy trees Lies in the spotted sunlight, are upsprung Countless anemones, white, red, and blue, In the bright glade. Forgetting why we came, We fell to gathering these. I chose the blue, As ye may see, loving blue blossoms best, That are content with heaven.