THE LADY Thou art a child: thy malice is a game. PIERROT A most sweet pastime--scandal is its name. THE LADY Enough, it wearies me. PIERROT Then, rare Marquise, Desert the crowd to wander through the trees. [_He bows low, and she curtsies; they move round the stage. When they pass before the Statue he seizes her hand and falls on his knee._] THE LADY What wouldst thou now? PIERROT Ah, prithee, what, save thee! THE LADY Was this included in thy comedy? PIERROT Ah, mock me not! In vain with quirk and jest I strive to quench the passion in my breast; In vain thy blandishments would make me play: Still I desire far more than I can say. My knowledge halts, ah, sweet, be piteous, Instruct me still, while time remains to us, Be what thou wist, Goddess, moon-maid, _Marquise_, So that I gather from thy lips heart's ease, Nay, I implore thee, think thee how time flies! THE LADY Hush! I beseech thee, even now night dies. PIERROT Night, day, are one to me for thy soft sake. [_He entreats her with imploring gestures, she hesitates: then puts her finger on her lip hushing him._] THE LADY It is too late, for hark! the birds awake. PIERROT The birds awake! It is the voice of day! THE LADY Farewell, dear youth! They summon me away. [_The light changes, it grows daylights and music imitates the twitter of the birds. They stand gazing at the morning: then Pierrot sinks back upon his bed, he covers his face in his hands._] THE LADY [_Bending over him_.] Music, my maids! His weary senses steep In soft untroubled and oblivious sleep, With mandragore anoint his tired eyes, That they may open on mere memories, Then shall a vision seem his lost delight, With love, his lady for a summer's night. Dream thou hast dreamt all this, when thou awake, Yet still be sorrowful, for a dream's sake. I leave thee, sleeper! Yea, I leave thee now, Yet take my legacy upon thy brow: Remember me, who was compassionate, And opened for thee once, the ivory gate. I come no more, thou shalt not see my face When I am gone to mine exalted place: Yet all thy days are mine, dreamer of dreams, All silvered over with the moon's pale beams: Go forth and seek in each fair face in vain, To find the image of thy love again. All maids are kind to thee, yet never one Shall hold thy truant heart till day be done. Whom once the moon has kissed, loves long and late, Yet never finds the maid to be his mate. Farewell, dear sleeper, follow out thy fate. [_The Moon Maiden withdraws: a song is sung from behind: it is full day_.] THE MOON MAIDEN'S SONG. Sleep! Cast thy canopy Over this sleeper's brain, Dim grow his memory, When he awake again. Love stays a summer night, Till lights of morning come; Then takes her wingèd flight Back to her starry home.