Mandarin—What strange words do your lips produce? Does my daughter oppose her insect mind to mine?
Kwen-lin—I will not marry the Ta-yin of Canton. He's ugly, he's bold, he's yellow as—
Mandarin—Gold!
Kwen-lin—He shakes when he walks—
Mandarin—He's a—
Kwen-lin—Hundred years old! My heart would crack with grief were I to marry him.
Mandarin—I never yet heard that any maiden died of grief at the prospect of being a bride.
Kwen-lin—Br-r-r-r!
Mandarin—(Jumping.) What was that?
Kwen-lin—My heart cracking. Death is clutching for me.