Not yet, but soon; (_to_ LESBIA) I pray you, give your hand! How tender ’tis, how hard of grain is mine, How scarry-seamed from sword and dart! To match them-- Fie, an ill thought! On this a rose’s leaf, A crumpled nothing, must imprint a pang, On mine the sharpest thorn goes bent and blunt; Yours twitches as a gyve were smithied round it. Child, have no fear! I do not grip you thus Because I wish to stay you. The King knows I grasp not merely his express word’s meaning, I’m quick as well i’ the uptake of his hint. He saw with pain that Nature has for you So much achieved, and naught that hussy Luck; He bids me succour you and fill Luck’s office. I do so (_releasing her_) and herewith declare you free! LESBIA. They say that liberty’s a noble boon; I know it not, being snatched as child for spoil, And yet one must give thanks for noble boons, So for my liberty I give you thanks. GYGES. Are you contented, Sire? KAN. I’m thunderstruck! GYGES (_to_ LESBIA). And since it seems you know not where your mother Weeps yearning tears, or where your sire’s house stands Enter, until you find it, into mine, ’Tis yours; I’ll rob it only of my sword. [_Exit_ LESBIA. KAN. What means this, Gyges? GYGES. Sire, my thanks that you Have wished me bring this work to the rounding finish; Yet yours it stays to the end. KAN. You wish, it seems, To see just once the Heraclid aroused; Then have a care, his sleep is not so sound! GYGES. Can I to-day offend you? KAN. No--forgive! But go forthwith and take from out my hoard Double the measure of your squandered present. Your deed has vexed me, and it hurts me still. GYGES. Be gracious if I cannot meet your wish. Such trash is changed like magic to a load, And when, with all this gold and precious stones, The beauteous slave-girl came to swell the treasure, I used the slender whiteness of her neck And hung thereon the precious vanities. I can employ naught further than my sword, But if you will be gracious unto me Make me a present of your foemen’s heads; I’ll make their tale complete to the very last. KAN. O Gyges, you are other than you were! GYGES. I am so, Sire. KAN. You love! GYGES. You saw that maiden? I could have hewn her piecemeal! Do I love? KAN. You love Rhodope! GYGES. Sire, ’tis only this-- I cannot serve you more. KAN. Go, if you must. It grieves me, but I dare not now refuse you, And since you will not take a gift from me I cannot keep a present of your making. Here is your ring. GYGES.