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ARDEN: The ladies are on their way. LYRA: I must get Astraea to myself. HOMEWARE: My library is a virgin fortress, Mr. Arden. Its gates are open to you on other topics than the coupling of inebriates. LADY OLDLACE: Such perfect rhythm! WINIFRED: Such oratory! LADY OLDLACE: A master hand. I was in a trance from the first sentence to the impressive close.
VIRGINIA: Never have I seen Astraea look sublimer in her beauty than with her eyes uplifted to the impassioned speaker, reflecting every variation of his tones. ARDEN: Astraea! LADY OLDLACE: She was entranced when he spoke of woman descending from her ideal to the gross reality of man. OSIER: Yes, yes.
State the fact As soon as you are questioned, fearlessly. Open the battle with artillery. ASTRAEA: What is the matter, uncle Homeware? 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.
WINIFRED: I could not have done the thing. SWITHIN: In truth; it does remind one of the mess of pottage. LADY OLDLACE: One hardly felt one breathed. VIRGINIA: I confess it moved me to tears. SWITHIN: There is a pathos for us in the display of perfection. Such subtle contrast with our individual poverty affects us. WINIFRED: Surely there were passages of a distinct and most exquisite pathos.
OSIER: Such oratory is a whole orchestral symphony. VIRGINIA: Such command of intonation and subject! SWITHIN: That resonant voice! LADY OLDLACE: Swithin, his flow of eloquence! He launched forth! SWITHIN: Like an eagle from a cliff. OSIER: The measure of the words was like a beat of wings. SWITHIN: He makes poets of us. DAME DRESDEN: Spiral achieved his pinnacle to-day!
LADY OLDLACE: As in all great oratory! The key of it is the pathos. VIRGINIA: In great oratory, great poetry, great fiction; you try it by the pathos. All our critics agree in stipulating for the pathos. My tears were no feminine weakness, I could not be a discordant instrument. SWITHIN: I must make confession. He played on me too.
The scene is a Surrey garden in early summer. The paths are shaded by tall box-wood hedges. The time is some sixty years ago. PROFESSOR SPIRAL, DAME DRESDEN, LADY OLDLACE, VIRGINIA, WINIFRED, SWITHIN, and OSIER SPIRAL: One husband! The woman consenting to marriage takes but one. For her there is no widowhood. That punctuation of the sentence called death is not the end of the chapter for her.
VIRGINIA: How treacherous is our memory when we have most the longing to recall great sayings! OSIER: True, I conceive that my notes will be precious. WINIFRED: You could take notes! LADY OLDLACE: It seems a device for missing the quintessential. SWITHIN: Scraps of the body to the loss of the soul of it. We can allow that our friend performed good menial service.
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