Bia. [Who has not removed his gaze from her since her entrance]
A walk! That was your wish.
I'll show the paths.
Syb. Nay, here's a seat.
Bia. There's Artystone's rose,
Brought from the Mysian stream——
Pha. She'll stay with us.
Bia. The ivory cup of Isis, where each night
Her one tear falls,—and flowers whose sisters blow
In walled Ecbatana.
Syb. Come, sit by me,
Dear Pyrrha.
Pyrr. I would see the garden.
Syb. [Rising] Would?
We'll guide you then.
Pha. Ay, who would dawdle here?
Bia. But rest a moment, Pyrrha. I mind me now,
That from this spot the eye may best o'ersweep
The full design. Yon mass of planes——