Antonio: And thine, my own,
On Fate's hard brow would shame it of all frown!
Helena: Yet is thine mightier, for no frown can be
When no more gloom's in the world!
Antonio: But 'tis thy lips
That lend it might. If I pressed other——
Helena: Other!
You should not know that any other lips
Could e'er be pressed; I'll have no kiss but his
Who is all blind to every mouth but mine!
(Breaks from him.)
Antonio: Oh?—Well.
Helena: "Oh—well?"—Then it is well I go!
Antonio: Perhaps.
Helena: "Perhaps!" (Makes to go.)
Antonio: Good-night.
Helena (returning): Antonio——?