Gwymplane
My Dea.
[She puts her hand upon his shoulder, the Duchess regarding them through her lorgnette.]
Duchess
What an idyl! How it refreshes me to watch. However, come, clown, take the girl and begone. Here is a crown for your love—it did not please me, you know, so you are getting far more than your deserts.
Dea [halting]
Your love, Gwymplane? She said your love?
Gwymplane
Anyone can misuse a word, but my voice is lost in a stammer of shame.