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And good Bianca here shall hold the torch

       Lest what is but a jest grow serious.

      BIANCA [To Guido]. Oh! kill him, kill him!

      SIMONE: Hold the torch, Bianca. [They begin to fight.]

      SIMONE: Have at you! Ah! Ha! would you?

       [He is wounded by GUIDO.]

       A scratch, no more. The torch was in mine eyes.

       Do not look sad, Bianca. It is nothing.

       Your husband bleeds, ‘tis nothing. Take a cloth,

       Bind it about mine arm. Nay, not so tight.

       More softly, my good wife. And be not sad,

       I pray you be not sad. No; take it off.

       What matter if I bleed? [Tears bandage off.]

       Again! again!

       [Simone disarms Guido]

       My gentle Lord, you see that I was right

       My sword is better tempered, finer steel,

       But let us match our daggers.

      BIANCA [to Guido] Kill him! kill him!

      SIMONE: Put out the torch, Bianca. [Bianca puts out torch.]

       Now, my good Lord,

       Now to the death of one, or both of us,

       Or all three it may be. [They fight.]

       There and there.

       Ah, devil! do I hold thee in my grip?

       [Simone overpowers Guido and throws him down over table.]

      GUIDO: Fool! take your strangling fingers from my throat.

       I am my father’s only son; the State

       Has but one heir, and that false enemy France

       Waits for the ending of my father’s line

       To fall upon our city.

      SIMONE: Hush! your father

       When he is childless will be happier.

       As for the State, I think our state of Florence

       Needs no adulterous pilot at its helm.

       Your life would soil its lilies.

      GUIDO: Take off your hands

       Take off your damned hands. Loose me, I say!

      SIMONE: Nay, you are caught in such a cunning vice

       That nothing will avail you, and your life

       Narrowed into a single point of shame

       Ends with that shame and ends most shamefully.

      GUIDO: Oh! let me have a priest before I die!

      SIMONE: What wouldst thou have a priest for? Tell thy sins

       To God, whom thou shalt see this very night

       And then no more for ever. Tell thy sins

       To Him who is most just, being pitiless,

       Most pitiful being just. As for myself.::

      GUIDO: Oh! help me, sweet Bianca! help me, Bianca,

       Thou knowest I am innocent of harm.

      SIMONE: What, is there life yet in those lying lips?

       Die like a dog with lolling tongue! Die! Die!

       And the dumb river shall receive your corse

       And wash it all unheeded to the sea.

      GUIDO: Lord Christ receive my wretched soul tonight!

      SIMONE: Amen to that. Now for the other.

       [He dies. Simone rises and looks at Bianca. She comes towards him

       as one dazed with wonder and with outstretched arms.]

      BIANCA: Why

       Did you not tell me you were so strong?

      SIMONE: Why

       Did you not tell me you were beautiful?

       [He kisses her on the mouth.]

      CURTAIN

      For Love of the King

       Table of Contents

       PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY

       ACT I

       ACT II

       ACT III

      Tite Street, Chelsea,

       November 27, 1894

      My dear Mrs. Chan Toon,

      I am greatly repentant being so long in acknowledging receipt ofTold on the Pagoda.” I enjoyed reading the stories, and much admired their quaint and delicate charm. Burmah calls to me.

      Under another cover I am sending you a fairy play entitledFor Love of the King,” just for your own amusement. It is the outcome of long and luminous talks with your distinguished husband in the Temple and on the river, in the days when I was meditating writing a novel as beautiful and as intricate as a Persian praying-rug. I hope that I have caught the atmosphere.

      I should like to see it acted in your Garden House on some night when the sky is a sheet of violet and the stars like women’s eyes. Alas, it is not likely.

      I am in the throes of a new comedy. I met a perfectly wonderful person the other day who unconsciously has irradiated my present with sinuous suggestion: a Swedish Baron, French in manner, Athenian in mind, and Oriental in morals. His society is a series of revelations. . . .

      I was at Oakley Street on Thursday; my mother tells me she sends you a letter nearly every week.

      Constance desires to be warmly remembered, while I, who am bathing my brow in the perfume of water-lilies, lay myself at the feet of you and yours.

      OSCAR WILDE

      PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY

       Table of Contents

      KING MENG BENG (Lord of a Thousand White Elephants, Countless Umbrellas and other attributes of greatness).

      U. RAI GYAN THOO (A Prime Minister).

      SHAH MAH PHRU (A Girl, half Italian, half Burmese, of dazzling beauty).

      DHAMMATHAT (Legal Adviser to the Court).

      HIP LOONG (A Chinese Wizard of great repute).

      MOUNG PHO MHIN (Minister of Finance).

      Two Envoys from the King of Ceylon.

      Nobles, Courtiers, Soothsayers, Poonygees, Dancing Girls, Betel-nut Carriers, Umbrella Bearers, Followers, Servants, Slaves, amongst whom are several Chinese but no Indians.

      Time: The Sixteenth Century.

      ACT I

       Table