Lyra:  And he is a bachelor too—­or consequently.

Astraea:  If you like you may be as playful with me as the Lyra of our maiden days used to be.  My dear, my dear, how glad I am to have you here!  You remind me that I once had a heart.  It will beat again with you beside me, and I shall look to you for protection.  A novel request from me.  From annoyance, I mean.  It has entirely altered my character.  Sometimes I am afraid to think of what I was, lest I should suddenly romp, and perform pirouettes and cry ‘Carnation!’ There is the bell.  We must not be late when the professor condescends to sit for meals.

Lyra:  That rings healthily in the professor.

Astraea:  Arm in arm, my Lyra.

Lyra:  No Pluriel yet!

(They enter the house, and the time changes to evening of the same
day.  The scene is still the garden.)

Scene VI

Astraea, Arden

Astraea:  Pardon me if I do not hear you well.

Arden:  I will not even think you barbarous.

Astraea:  I am.  I am the object of the chase.

Arden:  The huntsman draws the wood, then, and not you.

Astraea: 
        At any instant I am forced to run,
        Or turn in my defence:  how can I be
        Other than barbarous?  You are the cause.

Arden:  No:  heaven that made you beautiful’s the cause.

Astraea: 
        Say, earth, that gave you instincts.  Bring me down
        To instincts!  When by chance I speak awhile
        With our professor, you appear in haste,
        Full cry to sight again the missing hare. 
        Away ideas!  All that’s divinest flies! 
        I have to bear in mind how young you are.

Arden: 
        You have only to look up to me four years,
        Instead of forty!

Astraea:  Sir?

Arden
          There’s my misfortune! 
        And worse that, young, I love as a young man. 
        Could I but quench the fire, I might conceal
        The youthfulness offending you so much.

Astraea:  I wish you would.  I wish it earnestly.

Arden:  Impossible.  I burn.

Astraea:  You should not burn.

Arden
        ’Tis more than I.  ’Tis fire.  It masters will. 
        You would not say I should not’ if you knew fire. 
        It seizes.  It devours.

Astraea:  Dry wood.

Arden: 
        Cold wit! 
        How cold you can be!  But be cold, for sweet
        You must be.  And your eyes are mine:  with them
        I see myself:  unworthy to usurp
        The place I hold a moment.  While I look
        I have my happiness.

Astraea:  You should look higher.