DEBTOR. I've heard it said that you adore your gold Like something sacred, and that next to that You love the countenance of anguished men, And looks that mirror forth the spirit's pain. But you are old, have sons, and so I think These evil sayings false. And therefore I Will tell her this, and if perchance she asks me, "What thinkest thou?" then I will say, "My dearest, Peculiar, but not bad."--Farewell, but pray you, When your desire is granted, let not mine, Shalnassar, wait long for its due fulfilment. [The DEBTOR and the Armenian slave exeunt down the stairs.] SHALNASS. (alone, rises, stretches, seems much taller now). A honeyed fool is that, a sweet-voiced babbler, "Hear, aged man!"--"I beg you, aged man!" I've heard men say his wife is beautiful, And has such fiery color in her hair That fingers tumbling it feel heat and billows At once. If she comes not, then she shall learn To sleep on naked straw.... ... 'Twere time to sleep. They say that convalescents need much sleep. But if I must be deaf, then I'll be deaf To wisdom such as this. Sleep is naught other Than early death. I would enjoy my nights Together with the days still left to me. I will be generous, whenas I please: To Guelistane I Will give more this evening Than she could dream. And this shall be my pretext To have her change her room and take a chamber Both larger and near mine. If she will do't, Her bath shall be the juice of violets, roses, Or pinks, and gold and amber she shall quaff, Until the roof-beams reel in dizzy madness. [He claps his hands, a slave comes. Exit left, followed by slave. GUeLISTANE comes up the stairs, an old slave-woman behind her. GANEM bends forward from a niche above, spies GUeLISTANE and comes down the stairs.] GANEM (takes her by the hand). My dream, whence comest thou? So long I lay To wait for thee. [The old slave-woman mounts the stairs.] GUeLISTANE. I? From my bath I come And go now to my chamber. GANEM. How thou shinest From bathing. GUeLISTANE. It was flowing, glowing silver Of moonlight. GANEM. Were I one of yonder trees, I would cast off my foliage with a quiver, And leap to thee! O were I master here! GUeLISTANE. Aye, if thou wert! Thy father is quite well. He bade me dine alone with him this evening.