On the willows there, we hung up our lyres

"Ay, thou favorest the softer things," Claudius says, with a smile that's tender. He means, and knows Galahad means, more than the texture -- but he likes the wondering way Galahad touches him, when his fingers seek sensation. "If I wore a beard again, I'd never let it grow coarse. I'd keep it fine and oiled for thee, using only the scents thou lik'st best. And I'd have no wish to be masculine, or compare myself to bearded kings. Masculinity is a chore." For the last he takes a light, confiding tone. "So is femininity, but it's a chore at times I like. Dost know? In artistic allegories, the end of alchemy is illustrated as a divine androgyne. Once, a lover lent me her shift and corset, and I almost imagined myself such a being."