Seven times, lady.
Ah, was it? Well, now you’re here.
Lady, O star of these times. O light over lonely marshes. [He kneels by her and embraces her.] Is the Shereef gone, lady?
For half an hour, Hafiz.
How know you for half an hour?
He said so.
He said so? Then is the time to fear, if a man say so.
I know him.
In our country who knows any man so much? None.
He’ll be away for half an hour.
O, exquisite lily of unattainable mountains.
Ah, Hafiz, would you do a little thing for me?
I would do all things, lady, O evening star.
Would you make me a queen, Hafiz?
If—if the Shereef were gathered?
Even so, Hafiz.
Lady, I would make you queen of all that lies west of the passes.
You would make me queen?
Indeed, before all my wives, before all women, over all Shaldomir, named the elect.
O, well, Hafiz; then you may kiss me. [Hafiz does so ad lib.]
Hafiz, the Shereef has irked me.
Lady, O singing star, to all men is the hour.
The appointed hour?
Even the appointed hour, the last, leading to darkness.
Is it written, think you, that the Shereef’s hour is soon?