s on thy wife's fair
name?

MARK (gaily).

Heed not his words; the people love such jests.

(To the jester.)

Give us a sign, Sir Fool.

UGRIN.
A sign! A sign!

1ST BARON.
Ay, let the fool describe the Queen. Give ear.

UGRIN.
'Twill be a royal sport! And first he shall
Describe her feet! Speak on!

[UGRIN sits on the ground. ISEULT hides
her face in BRANGAENE'S breast.]

GIMELLA (to ISEULT laughingly).
He'll liken thee
Unto his wench!

MARK.
Why dost thou hesitate?
I grant thee jester's freedom, Fool. Begin!

STR. JESTER (softly and hesitatingly).
From pedestals white snowy columns rise
Of ivory, draped in softly whispering silk,
That arched, and all immaculate, stretch up,--
The swelling pillars of her body's frame--

MARK.
A graceful speech, my friend. Canst thou go on?

STR. JESTER (in rising agitation and feverish emotion).
Her body is a gleam of silvery light
Cast by the full moon in the month of May
Changed to the snowy marvel of herself.
Thou art a garden wild wherein there grow
Deep purple fruits that stupefy and yet
That make one burn! Thy body is a church
Of rarest marble built--a fairy mount
Where sounds the music of a golden harp;
A field of virgin snow! Thy breasts are buds
Of the most sacred plant that flowering grows
Within the garden,--swelling fruits that wait
To suck the honeyed dew of summer moons!
Thy neck is like a lily's stem! Thy arms
Are like the blossoming branches of a young
And tender almond-tree, directing us
Within that Paradise where rules the chaste
Perfection of thy rounded limbs, enthroned
Within thy wondrous body like a God
Who threatens from on high. Thou art--

MARK.
Oh hear
How this impostor talks! The token, fool!

STR. JESTER (softly, trembling and feverishly).
Below the left breast of this master-piece
Of His creation God has set his mark--
A darkened cross--!

MARK (hoarsely).
O seize the knave! The cross
Is there.--She bears the mark!

GANELUN.
Christ save my soul!

1ST BARON.
I feel an awful dread of this strange fool!