_Syb._ Hist, Biades!

She's yonder.

[_They look middle left, where Pyrrha appears_]

_Pha._ I like the garden best when 't wears Pale Cybele's gown. Apollo makes it harsh In black and gold--Ah, Pyrrha! You have found Our blossomy corner. Welcome to it, and know My neighbor, Sybaris,--and Biades.

_Pyrr._ I greet you, friends of Athens.

_Pha._ Will you sit?

_Bia._ [_Who has not removed his gaze from her since her entrance_]

A walk! That was your wish.

I'll show the paths.

_Syb._ Nay, here's a seat.

_Bia._ There's Artystone's rose, Brought from the Mysian stream----

_Pha._ She'll stay with us.

_Bia._ The ivory cup of Isis, where each night Her one tear falls,--and flowers whose sisters blow In walled Ecbatana.

_Syb._ Come, sit by me, Dear Pyrrha.

_Pyrr._ I would see the garden.

_Syb._ [_Rising_] Would?

We'll guide you then.

_Pha._ Ay, who would dawdle here?

_Bia._ But rest a moment, Pyrrha. I mind me now, That from this spot the eye may best o'ersweep The full design. Yon ma.s.s of planes----

_Pyrr._ I'll walk Alone. [_Moves off, lower right_]

_Syb._ Well!

_Pha._ Said I not?

_Syb._ Does nothing that She's asked! And stares as though a woman's eyes Were made to see with, when their chiefest use Is not to see!

_Pha._ Crude as her Spartan rocks!

_Bia._ I'll follow.

_Syb._ Nay, she'd _walk alone_!

_Bia._ She's Athens' guest.

I'll not be rude, whatever lack in her Provokes me to it.

_Pha._ Nor shall I, by all The grace in th' world!

_Syb._ You shame us, Biades.

We'll go with you.

[_Each taken an arm of Biades as he goes right. Pelagon enters, upper left_]

_Pel._ Daughter, this way!

[_Phania returns reluctantly. The others pa.s.s off, right_]

_Pel._ My chick,-- Nay, I'll be brief. I know young feet would flock.

_Pha._ O, father dear, I'd please you first! [_Kissing him_]

_Pel._ Well, well!...

You've seen Lord Stesilaus?

_Pha._ Just a peek.

_Pel._ Nay, he's no bear.

_Pha._ He'll bite though. I know that.

_Pel._ Now, Phania, now! I have a reason, miss, A most dear reason you should win the love Of Stesilaus.

_Pha._ Love!

_Pel._ I mean, my duck, A father's gentle love.

_Pha._ But, daddy, he's---- So tall!

_Pel._ He has a heart, my daughter.

_Pha._ Fum!

Are you so sure?

_Pel._ Find it the shortest way.

Remember he's your--hmm!--remember--hmm!-- That he's a man--as I am--and his pride But April frost. Be as he were myself----

_Pha._ As you? Oh, dear! [_Under his arm_]

And must I cuddle so?

Nay, that's for my own fa-fa!

_Pel._ Little Phania!

I'll lose my pipit,--lose my bonny bird!

_Pha._ Lose me? O, never, daddy, never! I'm Your pipsey, wipsey, umpsey, ownty own!