Sobeide.
When thou kissest me,
O look not thus! But no, I am thy slave.
Do as thou wilt. Here let me rest. I will
Be clay unto thy hands, and think no more.
And now thy brow is wrinkled?
Ganem.
Aye, for soon
Thou must return. Thou smilest?
Sobeide.
Should I not?
I know thou wouldst but try me.
Ganem.
No, in earnest,
Thou art in error. Thinkest thou perhaps
That I can keep thee here? Say, has thy husband
Gone over land, that thou art not afraid?
Sobeide.
I beg thee cease, I cannot laugh just now.
Ganem.
No, seriously, when shall I come to thee?
Sobeide.
To me, what for? Thou seest, I am here:
Look, here before thy feet I sit me down;
I have no other home except the straw
Beside thy hound, if thou wilt not provide
A bed for me; and none will come to fetch me.
[He raises her, then claps his hands delightedly.]
Ganem.
O splendid! How thou playst a seeming part
When opportunity demands. And it becomes thee,
Oh, most superbly! We'll draw profit from it.
There'll be no lack of further free occasion,
To yield ourselves to pleasure undismayed—
When shall I come to thee?
Sobeide (stepping back).
Oh, I am raving!
My head's to blame, for that I hear thee speaking
Quite other words than those thou really utter'st.
O Ganem, help me! Have thou patience with me,
What day is this today?