Oozizi: The common shouts that come up at evening, the clamour of the lanes; they are but from love.
Queen: What is love, Oozizi?
Oozizi: Love is a foolish thing.
Queen: How know you, Oozizi?
Oozizi: They came tittering to me once; but I saw the foolishness of it.
Queen (a little sadly): And they came no more?
Oozizi (a little sadly too): No more.
[Both look thoughtfully out into dreams, the Queen on her throne, chin on hand.
[Suddenly a stir is heard from the Hall of the Hundred Princes.
Queen (alarmed): Hark! What was that?