_rises, makes an obeisance, and stands
with noble bearing between the two
thrones, facing the spectators._ ALTOUM
_scans him carefully_. _Aside._)

How handsome the youth is! Compassion moves
My breast.

(_Aloud._) Unhappy man, what is thy name?
What King calls himself father unto thee?

CALAF (_at first somewhat confused, then with a
noble bow_).

Sire, let me beg a boon: that for the nonce
My name be covered up with dark.

ALTOUM.

How now!

You woo the Emperor's daughter, and withhold
Your name?

CALAF (_with pride_).

I am of royal blood. If Heaven
Decree my death, there will be time left then
To make my name and country known to you.

(_With another bow._)

Vouchsafe me silence for the present, Sire.

ALTOUM (_aside_).

What noble speech and port!
(_Aloud._) But if perchance
You solve the riddles, and then prove to be
Of mean extraction, how shall the edict...

CALAF (_interrupting him quickly_).

Sire,
The edict serves not save for sons of Kings.
If I by help of Heaven should solve the riddles,
And then were found to be of base extraction,
Let my head pay for it. My body give
To dogs and carrion crows upon the fields.
There is one man in Pekin knows my name,
And he will bear me witness.

(_With an obeisance to the_ EMPEROR.)

Therefore I
Entreat you in your mercy once again,
Still let my name be covered up with dark.

ALTOUM.

So be it then! It is your pleasing speech
And noble bearing make me grant the boon.
Oh that you now would grant the Emperor
The boon he begs for from his very throne,
Beseeching you: Go back, my son, go back!
Desist from this adventure, and go back!

PANTALONE.

We can't get him any farther, your Majesty.

ALTOUM.

The nations are already nursing wrath
Against me for the reckless oath I swore.
Do not thou also force me to shed tears
Over thy corpse. Oh, force me not to hate
This daughter of my loins more than I do
Already; force me not to hate myself
Who brought her into the world, more than I do.
Proud, vain, and pitiless, and cruel, source
Is she of torment to me till I die.

CALAF.

Sire, but I cannot think that you have cause
To fill your heart with torment and unrest.
If in your daughter there is cruelty,
It is not from her father that it came.
If guilt you have, it can be only this:
That you have given the world such peerless beauty
As draws all men to her. I thank you, Sire,
For your great goodness! I have but o