Oh, your Majesty!
The Queen.
Are you a poet, Marquis?
The Marquis in Pale Blue.
Oh, your Majesty, up to this time I have not been; but who should not speak in verse where this magic enthrals us, where our hearts are habitually broken, and Cupid himself bears the royal crown?
(Cupid begins to cry).
First Maid of Honour.
What is the matter with him?
Second Maid of Honour.
Ah, the sweet child!