Clown. It is your affair to punish evil-doers.
King. True. O welcome guest of the flowering vine, why do you waste your time in buzzing here?
Your faithful, loving queen,
Perched on a flower, athirst,
Is waiting for you still,
Nor tastes the honey first.
Mishrakeshi. A gentlemanly way to drive him off!
Clown. This kind are obstinate, even when you warn them.
King (angrily). Will you not obey my command? Then listen:
'Tis sweet as virgin blossoms on a tree,
The lip I kissed in love-feasts tenderly;
Sting that dear lip, O bee, with cruel power,
And you shall be imprisoned in a flower.
Clown. Well, he doesn't seem afraid of your dreadful punishment. (Laughing. To himself.) The man is crazy, and I am just as bad, from associating with him.
King. Will he not go, though I warn him?
Mishrakeshi. Love works a curious change even in a brave man.