must not ask him;
Breathe not a word, I pray.

_Gycia._ My good Asander,
What is it moves thee thus? See, here he comes.

_Enter_ ZETHO _and_ Senators.

_Gycia._ Good morrow, my Lord Zetho! We were late,
Debating of the coming festival,
And how my lord the Prince, having ill news
From Bosphorus, where the King his sire lies sick,
Can bear no part in it.

_Zetho._ I grieve indeed
To hear this news, and trust that Heaven may send
Swift comfort to his son, whom we all love.

_Asan._ I thank thee, Archon, for thy courtesy;
And may thy wish come true.

_Gycia._ And meantime, since my husband's heart is sore
For his sire's lonelihood, our purpose is
That he should sail to-morrow and go hence
To Bosphorus, where I, the festival
Being done, will join him later, and devote
A daughter's loving care and tender hand
To smooth the old man's sick-bed.

_Zetho._ Nay, my daughter,
I grieve this cannot be. The Prince Asander,
Coming to Cherson only two years gone,
Did pledge his solemn word to thy dead father
That never would he seek, come foul or fair,
To turn from Cherson homewards, and I marvel
That never, in the years that since have passed
Amid the close-knit bonds of wedded lives,
He has revealed this secret. We who rule
Our Cherson know through what blind shoals of fortune
Our ship of state drives onward. And I dare
not, Holding the rule which was thy father's once,
Release him from the solemn pledge which keeps
Our several States bound fast in amity,
But each from the other separate, and each
Free from the perils tangled intercourse
Might breed for both. Indeed, it cannot be;
I grieve that so it is.

_Gycia._ My Lord Asander,
Are these things so indeed?

_Asan._ They are, my wife.
A rash and heedless promise binds me fast,
Which, in all frankness, I had never dreamt
Could thus demand fulfilment. Who is there
More loyal to the State than I? Who is there
Bound by such precious chains of love and faith
As is thy husband? If I said no word
Of this before, it was that I would fain
Forget this hateful compact. Sir, I beg you
Let me go hence, and when the old man's sickness
Is done, as Heaven will have it, take my word
That I will be a citizen of Cherson
Again, whate'er may come.

_Zetho._ If t