42 THE TEMPLARS IN CYPRUS. [ACT If FRANK. The true Philosopher's stone, The key that ojcs tho Future's iron door, And «11 tho hidden caverns of the Past And Nature's most occult laboratory, With revelation of her inner life. MOLAT (lost in thought over FRANK'S laM worth, after a little pause, with emotion, asùle, as he looks upon FRANK). Poor child ! For theo too has tho Siren sung? But, hold \—(AlouJ) You're seriously disordered, friend— Such heated nervous ferment must, I know, From manifold convulsions suffer, till Tho hardening process gives it power to stand Against lifo's frost, wherein no nature thrives Except it be of cold and fungus kind. Yet only surfaco-deep your ailment lies, Thank God :—and, first of all, its remedy In exercise and movement must be sought. See you that man down yonder, standing by The cabbago beds ? FRANK. I sco him, yes. MOLAT. He is Philip, mine ancient gardener. FRANK. Even now I spoke with him. A sharp old fellow, though He's somewhat rough, and not of tho best manners. MOLAT. • Polish his rudeness with your courtesy, Whose mirror will thereby the brighter shine.— See, how he toils,—how busily he digs Assiduous to complete his daily task !—