He is a madman. Your Highness, all he is capable of is to sweep the leaves as withered as himself, from beneath the laurel tree in your moon garden. As he sweeps he talks to himself, as old men do. We've heard him cry that his passion for you torments him by day 3rd Lady. And by night.
Laughter is a two-edged sword.
The mockery of her ladies injured the Princess' pride and provoked her to cruelty. You will behold my face. Ladies are frightened and shrink away. Alchemist waves fan. I conjure for you the Moon pool beneath the laurel tree on which hangs the Damask Drum.