Homeware: 
                              Who betrayed? 
               Your voice, your eyes, your veil, your knife and fork;
               Your tenfold worship of your widowhood;
               As he who sees he must yield up the flag,
               Hugs it oath-swearingly! straw-drowningly. 
               To be reasonable:  you sent this gentleman
               Referring him to me . . . .

Astraea: 
                                        And that is false. 
               All’s false.  You have conspired.  I am disgraced. 
               But you will learn you have judged erroneously. 
               I am not the frail creature you conceive. 
               Between your vision of life’s aim, and theirs
               Who presently will question me, I cling
               To theirs as light:  and yours I deem a den
               Where souls can have no growth.

Homeware: 
               But when we touched
               The point of hand-pressings, ’twas rightly time
               To think of wedding ties?

Astraea: 
               Arden, adieu!

(She rushes into house.)

SceneVIII

Arden, Homeware

Arden: 
               Adieu! she said.  With her that word is final.

Homeware: 
               Strange! how young people blowing words like clouds
               On winds, now fair, now foul, and as they please
               Should still attach the Fates to them.

Arden: 
                              She’s wounded
               Wounded to the quick!

Homeware: 
                         The quicker our success:  for short
               Of that, these dames, who feel for everything,
               Feel nothing.

Arden: 
                         Your intention has been kind,
               Dear sir, but you have ruined me.

Homeware: 
                         Good-night. (Going.)

Arden: 
               Yet she said, we are lost, in her surprise.

Homeware: 
               Good morning. (Returning.)

Arden: 
                         I suppose that I am bound
               (If I could see for what I should be glad!)
               To thank you, sir.

Homeware: 
                         Look hard but give no thanks. 
               I found my girl descending on the road
               Of breakneck coquetry, and barred her way. 
               Either she leaps the bar, or she must back. 
               That means she marries you, or says good-bye. 
                                        (Going again.)

Arden: 
               Now she’s among them. (Looking at window.)