Ah, my dear, in that last epithet speaks your extreme desirability for the vocation, superstition, which is nothing more nor less than fear of reason, or possibly a certain instinct that the truth would make everything look rather second class—if one is second class one's self.
Duchess
I suppose it is not incumbent upon me to stand here in order that my character inspire you with further Socratic comment.
Queen
Not at all, my dear sister; by all means seek your fauns and draperies and forgive me for prattling on quite regardless of sowing the tragic seed—ennui.
[At this juncture it is only the intense refinement of the Duchess which prevents her from falling into the unbecoming posture of powerless invective. Phedro, who has listened to the foregoing, presumes here to interrupt.]
Phedro
Your Majesty, have I your permission to retire?
Queen [turning vaguely toward him]
Certainly, certainly, Phedro. It must be extremely fatiguing to keep on hitting, one after another, so many peculiar facts.