Service. Three suitors, Fame, Riches, and Power are at the gate, Princess, and claim an audience. They have banished the Gray Woman from the side of others and seek to do this for thee. With them they bring charms that have before broken the spells of Sorrow; these are beyond price but each asks in exchange thy hand in marriage as promised in the proclamation cried by the heralds.
Douce-cœur [turning to Sorrow].
What must I do?
Sorrow. Bid them approach, my child;
It may be their rich gifts will pleasure thee.
[Enter Herald followed by Fame.]
Herald.
Fame, Lord of the Marches of the East, salutes thee.
[Exit Herald.]
Fame.
Fame am I called, Princess. I bring thee this
Crown of Unfading Leaves for which men pray
And toil throughout their lives—unsatisfied.
It shall be thine unsought. Grant me thy hand,
And thou shalt live in glamour of high destiny.
Thy name shall sound in honor through the world;
Thy words shall set the hearts of men aflame.
Let me but place the wreath about thy head,
Thus shalt thou strike this lyre with deathless notes
Which shall, vibrating through the fields of space,
Ring on, and on, nor ever find a goal.
Sorrow.
Deaf are the ears on which thy phrases fall.
With one so young what are thy spells to mine?
Douce-cœur.
I see thy wreath of leaves, entwined with asps
Whose forked tongues whisper "jealousy and hate."
Thy harp is out of tune with Sorrow's voice.
Poetry.
She is too tender for thine upward way.
The solitude of those who follow thee
Is not for her. Pass on, my lord, pass on.