MIDAS. Immortal Pan, to my poor, mortal ears Your sprightly song in melody outweighs His drowsy tune; he put me fast asleep, As my prime minister, Zopyrion, knows; But your gay notes awoke me, & to you, If I were Tmolus, would I give the prize. APOLLO. And who art thou who dar’st among the Gods Mingle thy mortal voice? Insensate fool! Does not the doom of Marsyas fill with dread Thy impious soul? or would’st thou also be Another victim to my justest wrath? But fear no more;—thy punishment shall be But as a symbol of thy blunted sense. Have asses’ ears! and thus to the whole world Wear thou the marks of what thou art, Let Pan himself blush at such a judge.[1] (_Exeunt all except_ Midas & Zopyrion.) MIDAS. What said he? is it true, Zopyrion? Yet if it be; you must not look on me, But shut your eyes, nor dare behold my shame. Ah! here they are! two long, smooth asses[’] ears! They stick upright! Ah, I am sick with shame! ZOPYRION. I cannot tell your Majesty my grief, Or how my soul’s oppressed with the sad change That has, alas! befallen your royal ears. MIDAS. A truce to your fine speeches now, Zopyrion; To you it appertains to find some mode Of hiding my sad chance, if not you die. ZOPYRION. Great King, alas! my thoughts are dull & slow[;] Pardon my folly, might they not be cut, Rounded off handsomely, like human ears [?] MIDAS. (_feeling his ears_) They’re long & thick; I fear ’twould give me pain; And then if vengeful Phœbus should command Another pair to grow—that will not do. ZOPYRION. You wear a little crown of carved gold, Which just appears to tell you are a king; If that were large and had a cowl of silk, Studded with gems, which none would dare gainsay, Then might you— MIDAS. Now you have it! friend, I will reward you with some princely gift. But, hark! Zopyrion, not a word of this; If to a single soul you tell my shame You die. I’ll to the palace the back way And manufacture my new diadem, The which all other kings shall imitate As if they also had my asses[’] ears. (_Exit_.) ZOPYRION. (_watching Midas off_) He cannot hear me now, and I may laugh! I should have burst had he staid longer here. Two long, smooth asses’ ears that stick upright; Oh, that Apollo had but made him bray! I’ll to the palace; there I’ll laugh my fill With—hold! What were the last words that Midas said? I may not speak—not to my friends disclose The strangest tale? ha! ha! and when I laugh I must not tell the cause? none know the truth? None know King Midas has—but who comes here? It is Asphalion: he knows not this change; I must look grave & sad; for now a smile If Midas knows it may prove capital. Yet when I think of those—oh! I shall die, In either way, by silence or by speech. Enter Asphalion. ASPHALION. Know you, Zopyrion?— ZOPYRION. What[!] you know it too? Then I may laugh;—oh, what relief is this! How does he look, the courtiers gathering round? Does he hang down his head, & his ears too? Oh, I shall die! (_laughs._)