For an instant the young man was disconcerted. Then rising, he said:
"Nay, from the rings regardant of thine eyes I learned my speech. What are golden rings to these?"
"Why, how much better is thy speech when it ringeth true," said Phœbe. "Thy speech of greeting was conned with much pains from the cold book of prior calculation, and so I answered you from a poet's play. I would you loved me!"
"Loved thee, oh, divine enchantress—too cruel-lovely captress of my dole-breathing heart!"
"Tut—tut—tut!" she broke in, stamping her foot. "Thou dost it badly, Sir Guy. A truce to Euphuistic word-coining and phrase-shifting! Wilt show thy love—in all sadness, say!"
"In any way—or sad or gay!"
"Then prithee, good knight, stand on thy head by yonder tree."
The cavalier stepped back and gazed into his lady's face as though he thought her mad.
"Stand—on—my—head!" he exclaimed, slowly.
Phœbe laughed merrily and clapped her hands.