You have my full consent.  Weigh well your acts,
        You cannot rest where you have cast this bolt
        Lay that to heart, and you are cherished, prized,
        Among them:  they are estimable ladies,
        Warmest of friends; though you may think they soar
        Too loftily for your measure of strict sense
        (And as my uncle Homeware’s pupil, sir,
        In worldliness, you do), just minds they have: 
        Once know them, and your banishment will fret. 
        I would not run such risks.  You will offend,
        Go near to outrage them; and perturbate
        As they have not deserved of you.  But I,
        Considering I am nothing in the scales
        You balance, quite and of necessity
        Consent.  When you have weighed it, let me hear. 
        My uncle Homeware steps this way in haste. 
        We have been talking long, and in full view!

Scene VII

Astraea, Arden, Homeware

Homeware: 
        Astraea, child!  You, Arden, stand aside. 
        Ay, if she were a maid you might speak first,
        But being a widow she must find her tongue. 
        Astraea, they await you.  State the fact
        As soon as you are questioned, fearlessly. 
        Open the battle with artillery.

Astraea: 
        What is the matter, uncle Homeware?

Homeware (playing fox): 
                  What? 
        Why, we have watched your nice preliminaries
        From the windows half the evening.  Now run in. 
        Their patience has run out, and, as I said,
        Unlimber and deliver fire at once. 
        Your aunts Virginia and Winifred,
        With Lady Oldlace, are the senators,
        The Dame for Dogs.  They wear terrific brows,
        But be not you affrighted, my sweet chick,
        And tell them uncle Homeware backs your choice,
        By lawyer and by priests! by altar, fount,
        And testament!

Astraea: 
        My choice! what have I chosen?

Homeware: 
        She asks?  You hear her, Arden?—­what and whom!

Arden: 
        Surely, sir! . . . heavens! have you . . .

Homeware: 
                  Surely the old fox,
        In all I have read, is wiser than the young: 
        And if there is a game for fox to play,
        Old fox plays cunningest.

Astraea: 
        Why fox?  Oh! uncle,
        You make my heart beat with your mystery;
        I never did love riddles.  Why sit they
        Awaiting me, and looking terrible?

Homeware: 
        It is reported of an ancient folk
        Which worshipped idols, that upon a day
        Their idol pitched before them on the floor

Astraea: 
        Was ever so ridiculous a tale!