Ah. All is ready.

Ackazárpses:

No, no, Illustrious Lady. Nothing is ready. Your raiment--we must
fasten it here [shoulder], and then the bow in your hair.

[She begins to titivate the Queen.]

Queen:

Ackazárpses, Ackazárpses, I cannot _bear_ to have enemies.

Ackazárpses:

Indeed, Illustrious Lady, it is wrong that you should have enemies.
One so delicate, so slender and withal so beautiful should never have
a foe.

Queen:

If the gods could understand they would never permit it.

Ackazárpses:

I have poured out dark wine to them, I have offered them fat, indeed, I
have often offered them savoury things. I have said: The Queen should
not have enemies; she is too delicate, too fair. But they will not
understand.