OCEANA. Married! Married! That is the sorcery with which you bind him! No longer a man at all, but some aborted thing... a relic! An eunuch! They mumble their incantations over you... the spell is done, and you sink back, cowed and whimpering! You are a machine, a domestic utensil! Never again are you to love and to dare to create No, there are other things in life for you... bread and butter, cooks and dinner parties, billiards and bridge-whist... that is your portion! A married man!
LETITIA. [Terrified.] Henry! For God's sake!
[He no longer returns her embraces, but stares at Oceana, fascinated.]
OCEANA. Don't you see, man? It's a dream! A nightmare! Rouse yourself, lift your head... and it's gone! Life is calling! Come away!
LETITIA. [Frantically.] Mother! Mother!
MRS. MASTERSON. Quincy, if you can't stop this outrage, I will! Call the servants.
[She starts toward Oceana.]
OCEANA. Call the police! Call your guests! Anything... bring the world down on him. Terrify him with conventions, beat him into subjection again!
MRS. MASTERSON. Wanton!
OCEANA. Wanton! Oh, how well you understand me! I, with my hunger for righteousness... I, who have disciplined myself as an anchorite, who have served as a priestess of life! And you, with your formulas and your superstitions... you pass judgment upon me! [With terrific energy.] See! This man and I, we are the gateway to the future! And you seek to bar it! By what right do you stand in the path of posterity... you tormentors of the ideal, you assassins of human hope!