Mirza.My love, what can I give?
I have no trinkets—I am very poor!
Phil. A handkerchief—a glove—no matter what!
(She feels in pocket and takes out handkerchief—the crystal box falls out with it—he picks it up and retains it.)
This crystal box—nay, give it me, ’twill serve
To chronicle—
Mirza. (hastily).No, no, Prince Philamir!
Not that—not that! it is a talisman!
Phil. Then I will steal it as I stole your heart,
And I will keep it while I keep that heart.