Guin. His face was like the gardens when the sun
Lifts up his crimson splendor after dawn,
His bearing as the bearing of a god,
And yet as one who would be kind and loving.
Unid. Yea, my lady, he seemed glad and fair,
And fit to be the lord to thee, my Princess.
Guin. Come Unid take my hand and we wilt sit
And speak of this great Arthur. Well thou knowest
My maiden fears regarding this same marriage.