ar
Thou art a stranger here, or thou wouldst know
That never would I leave my native city
To win the crown of Rome.

_Lys._ Madam, 'tis pity.

_Gycia._ Sir, this is courtly talk. You came to see
My husband; I will order that they send him
At once to you.

[_Exit_ GYCIA.

_Lys._ That was indeed good fortune brought me hither
When her lover knelt to her. I do not wonder
That kneel he should, for she is beautiful
As Helen's self. There comes some difference
Between her and Asander, and 'twere strange
If I might not so work on't as to widen
The breach good fortune sends me, and to bind,
Through that which I have seen, the boy her husband
To execute my will.

_Enter_ ASANDER.

_Asan._ Lysimachus,
I am rejoiced to see thee.

_Lys._ Good my lord,
How goes the world with thee? Thou art in mien
Graver than thou wast once.

_Asan._ I am ill at ease!
I am ill at ease! How does the King my father?

_Lys._ Alas! sir, he is ailing, and I fear
Will never mend.

_Asan._ Is he in present danger?

_Lys._ Ay, that he is. A month or less from this
May see the end.

_Asan._ Keeps he his bed as yet?

_Lys._ Nay, not yet, when I left him; but his mind
Turns always to his absent son with longing,
And sometimes, as it were 'twixt sleep and waking
I hear him say, "Asander, oh, my son!
Shall I not see thee more?"

_Asan._ Oh, my dear father!
And dost thou love me thus, who have forgot thee
These two long years? Beloved, lonely life!
Beloved failing eyes! Lysimachus,
I must go hence, and yet my honour binds me.
O God, which shall I choose? They do forbid me--
The ruler of this place and that good woman
Who is my wife, but holds their cursed State
More than my love--to go.

_Lys._ My prince, I come
To find a way by which thou mayst go free
From that which binds thee fast. This festival
To the dead Lamachus will give the occasion
To set thee free. If thou dost doubt to break
Thy word, yet doth a stronger, straiter chain
Bind thee--thy oath. Thou hast not forgot thy oath
To Bosphorus?

_Asan._ Nay, I forget it not.
But what is it thou wouldst of me?

_Lys._ Asander,
The night which ends the festival shall see us
Masters of Cherson.