ABRAZZA—­How came it, that they all were blind?

BABBALANJA—­It was endemical, your Highness.  Few grand poets have good eyes; for they needs blind must be, who ever gaze upon the sun.  Vavona himself was blind:  when, in the silence of his secret bower, he said—­“I will build another world.  Therein, let there be kings and slaves, philosophers and wits; whose checkered actions—­strange, grotesque, and merry-sad, will entertain my idle moods.”  So, my lord, Vavona played at kings and crowns, and men and manners; and loved that lonely game to play.

ABRAZZA—­Vavona seemed a solitary Mardian; who seldom went abroad; had few friends; and shunning others, was shunned by them.

BABBALANJA—­But shunned not himself, my lord; like gods, great poets dwell alone; while round them, roll the worlds they build.

MEDIA—­You seem to know all authors:—­you must have heard of Lombardo, Babbalanja; he who flourished many ages since.

BABBALANJA—­I have; and his grand Kortanza know by heart.

MEDIA (to Abrazza.)—­A very curious work, that, my lord.

ABRAZZA—­Yes, my dearest king.  But, Babbalanja, if Lombardo had aught to tell to Mardi—­why choose a vehicle so crazy?

BABBALANJA—­It was his nature, I suppose.

ABRAZZA—­But so it would not have been, to me.

BABBALANJA—­Nor would it have been natural, for my noble lord Abrazza, to have worn Lombardo’s head:—­every man has his own, thank Oro!

ABBRAZZA—­A curious work:  a very curious work.  Babbalanja, are you acquainted with the history of Lombardo?

BABBALANJA—­None better.  All his biographies have I read.

ABRAZZA—­Then, tell us how he came to write that work.  For one, I can not imagine how those poor devils contrive to roll such thunders through all Mardi.

MEDIA—­Their thunder and lightning seem spontaneous combustibles, my lord.

ABRAZZA—­With which, they but consume themselves, my prince beloved.

BABBALANJA—­In a measure, true, your Highness.  But pray you, listen; and I will try to tell the way in which Lombardo produced his great Kortanza.

MEDIA—­But hark you, philosopher! this time no incoherencies; gag that devil, Azzageddi.  And now, what was it that originally impelled Lombardo to the undertaking?

BABBALANJA—­Primus and forever, a full heart:—­brimful, bubbling, sparkling; and running over like the flagon in your hand, my lord.  Secundo, the necessity of bestirring himself to procure his yams.

ABRAZZA—­Wanting the second motive, would the first have sufficed, philosopher?