THE LADY
Waste not the night in idle questioning,
Since Love departs at dawn's awakening.

PIERROT
Nay, thou art right; what recks thy name or state,
Since thou art lovely and compassionate.
Play out thy will on me: I am thy lyre.

THE LADY
I am to each the face of his desire.

PIERROT
I am not Pierrot, but Venus' dove,
Who craves a refuge on the breast of love.

THE LADY
What wouldst thou of the maiden of the moon?
Until the cock crow I may grant thy boon.

PIERROT
Then, sweet Moon Maiden, in some magic car,
Wrought wondrously of many a homeless star--
Such must attend thy journeys through the skies,--
Drawn by a team of milk-white butterflies,
Whom, with soft voice and music of thy maids,
Thou urgest gently through the heavenly glades;
Mount me beside thee, bear me far away
From the low regions of the solar day;
Over the rainbow, up into the moon,