Change of scene. A room inside the palace. The Prince
and Snow White.

Prince:

I would talk away the whole day

with you and do so arm in arm.

How strange this language is to me

that comes from that sweet mouth of yours.

Your mere word, how alive it is.

My ear hangs rapt on its richness

in a hammock of harkening,

while dreaming of a violin strain,

a lisp, a fair nightingale’s song,

of love’s twittering. In and out

the dreaming goes like ocean waves

washing onto our garden shore.

O speak, and I’m ever asleep,

a prisoner of love this way,

in chains, yet infinitely rich,

free as no free man ever was.

Snow White:

You speak such noble princely speech.

Prince:

No, let me listen instead,

so that the love I swore below

in the garden, in that playpen,

never blows away in vain words.

I only want to listen and respond

to your love that sounds in my head.

Speak, that I am ever silent

and true to you. Unfaithfulness

comes quick with words. It speaks rashly,

a fountain in the wind, being whipped,

to froth over into babble.

No, let me be silent, true to you.

In this sense I shall love you more

than with love. Then wholeheartedness

knows itself no more. It showers

me in wetness the same as you.

Love is wet the way the night is,

such that dry dust never clouds it.

So speak, such that when you speak

it falls like dew upon our love.

You’re quiet. What do you see there?

Snow White:

You do talk like a waterfall

of silence, yet you’re not silent.

Prince:

What’s wrong, speak! You look so somber,

so plaintive right down to your toes,

as if you were searching for words

that whisper love. Do not sulk there.

Speak up when something troubles you.

Unroll it just like a carpet

on which we will merrily play.

To dally in heartache does one good.

Snow White:

You talk forever and promise

silence though. What are you saying,

talking headlong on and on?

Confidence is not so quick-tongued.

Love fancies it soft and serene.

O if you’re not devoted

to my bliss in every sense,

then say so. Say it, for you say

unfaithfulness would talk away

eagerly, talkative, so fast.

Prince:

Let us drop that.

Snow White:

Yes, let’s make small talk, be merry.

Let us banish from love’s kingdom

melancholy and dolefulness.

Let’s jest and dance and cheer aloud.

Why worry of the pain of now,

which commands us to be silent!

Well, what see you in the garden?

Prince (looking out the window):

Alas, what I see is fair and sweet

to the naked eye that but sees.

To feeling, which takes in this scene

with its fine net, it is sacred.

To intellect, which knows the past,

it’s disgusting, a dirty flood

of muddy water. Oh, it takes