Meg. Shame, truly! no near neighbors he and Shame!
Her. And so much, in my absence, lacked I friends?
Meg. Friends,—are there any to a luckless man?
Her. The Minuai-war I waged,—they spat forth these?
Meg. Friendless—again I tell thee—is ill-luck.
Her. Will not you cast these hell-wraps from your hair
And look on light again, and with your eyes
Taste the sweet change from nether dark to day?
While I—for now there needs my handiwork—
First I shall go, demolish the abodes