PRINCE. Say on, very wise councillor. BUZEN. [_Puffing up._] Without more words than are fit This then is the way of the cure. When long had thine illness ravaged and worn thee And many nights had you tossed by weird visions enthralled, No cures affecting, no prayers availing thee [_Glances at_ RUITEN.] Then councilled I with thy wise ones-- And, too, with Priest Ruiten-- RUITEN. I, you should name first, For without my prayers your wisdom was nought. BUZEN. To continue briefly. All our heads together brought no solution-- PRINCE. True, true. BUZEN. [_Bowing._] Humbly I acknowledge my head Empty and brainless. Yet even from idiots lips Wisdom oft falls unexpected And therefore more wonderful. Now it is told in old tales Of how Iyaiyasu met-- RUITEN. Short, abrupt is thy tale. PRINCE. The cure, Sir Buzen, The hour passes. BUZEN. [_Bowing._] I crave honorable leniency. To be brief-- PRINCE. Aye, brief. BUZEN. Discouraged and sick at heart At the sufferings of my great lord, I was retiring to my room By way of the garden And the hour was the Hour of the Fox. I heard a splashing in the pool And drawing near Saw a young soldier washing. I spoke to him asking, "Who art thou?" "Retainer to my Lord Nabeshima, Prince of Hizen," he answered. Then talked I with him. Of thy sickness We talked. And he was ashamed of thy samurai's sleeping. He begged to be allowed to guard thy sleep Also for, being a common soldier, it was not permitted. So earnestly talked he that I promised to consult With the other councillors and see what could be done. "So tell me your name, young sir," I said. "Ito Soda is my name, honorable sir, And for your kind words I thank you." So I consulted and the result was We granted his request. PRINCE. And he, too, has watched the two nights past? RUITEN. Aye, and he slept not Though the samurai were heavy with sleep-fumes. BUZEN. I will tell. RUITEN. [_Elbows_ BUZEN _out of the way and comes forward._] You are honorably hoarse. He slept not, as I say-- PRINCE. How kept he awake? Since many slept spell-bound How broke he the spell? RUITEN. With him he brought Oiled paper and laid it Down on the matting Sitting upon it. When o'er his eyes sleep stole And wearily weighted them He drew out his sharp dirk And in his thigh thrust it By pain driving the poppy fumes off. Ever and again he twisted The dirk in the raw wound And the thick blood-drops Soiled not the matting Because of the oiled paper. PRINCE. Indeed this is no common soldier, This Ito Soda. BUZEN. Indeed not-- RUITEN. To continue--[_Retires upstage, disgruntled._]