King.
Sprung from a nymph of heaven
Wanton and gay,
Who spurned the blessing given,
Going her way;By the stern hermit taken
In her most need:
So fell the blossom shaken,
Flower on a weed.
Clown. (laughing). You are like a man who gets tired of good dates and longs for sour tamarind. All the pearls of the palace are yours, and you want this girl!
King. My friend, you have not seen her, or you could not talk so.
Clown. She must be charming if she surprises you.
King. Oh, my friend, she needs not many words.
She is God's vision, of pure thought
Composed in His creative mind;
His reveries of beauty wrought
The peerless pearl of womankind.
So plays my fancy when I see
How great is God, how lovely she.
Clown. How the women must hate her!
King. This too is in my thought.
She seems a flower whose fragrance none has tasted,
A gem uncut by workman's tool,
A branch no desecrating hands have wasted,
Fresh honey, beautifully cool.No man on earth deserves to taste her beauty,
Her blameless loveliness and worth,
Unless he has fulfilled man's perfect duty—
And is there such a one on earth?