The Lady.
Yea, thou art one of hers! But, ere this night,
Often I watched my sisters take their flight
Down heaven's stairway of the clustered stars
To gaze on mortals through their lattice bars;
And some in sleep they woo with dreams of bliss
Too shadowy to tell, and some they kiss.
But all to whom they come, my sisters say,
Forthwith forget all joyance of the day,
Forget their laughter and forget their tears,
And dream away with singing all their years—
Moon-lovers always!
[She sighs.]
Pierrot.
Why art sad, sweet Moon?
[Laughs.]
The Lady.
For this, my story, grant me now a boon.
Pierrot.
I am thy servitor.
The Lady.
Would, then, I knew
More of the earth, what men and women do.
Pierrot.
I will explain.
The Lady.
Let brevity attend
Thy wit, for night approaches to its end.
Pierrot.
Once was I a page at Court, so trust in me:
That's the first lesson of society.
The Lady.
Society?
Pierrot.
I mean the very best.
Pardy! thou wouldst not hear about the rest.
I know it not, but am a petit maître
At rout and festival and bal champêtre.
But since example be instruction's ease,
Let's play the thing.—Now, Madame, if you please!
[He helps her to rise, and leads her forward: then he kisses her hand, bowing over it with a very courtly air.]