Spirit of Fate, what mystical wooing May win thee to pause where we pray? Misers of Dream their locks are undoing,— Mistress of Keys, wilt thou stay?
Priestess, thyself, O fairer than dreaming, Art deity's answer to prayer! Dusk in thine eyes is the seer-burthen gleaming, And moon-wands at rest in thy hair.
Far-foot Desire is lost in the winding Of valleys and gardens of thee! Hoop of white arms is circumferent binding The star-pastured world and me!
[Sybaris throws the locket at his feet. He turns and sees that she and Phania have risen and are staring at him]
Pyrr. [After a silence] I do not know this game. Will leave you to it.
[Exit, middle left]
Syb. And I'll go home! [Exit, lower left]
Pha. And I'll go tell my father!
[Exit, upper left]
Bia. And I'll go stand in th' donkey mart and bray
Till a farmer buys me! Witched, and by a Spartan!
Mad as the fleeing ass of Thessaly! [Exit, upper right]
[Curtain]