All worship mine. Her purity doth hedge her
Round with so delicate divinity, that men
Stained to the soul with money-bag and ledger
Bend to the Goddess, manifest again.
FRANK.
None worship mine. But some, I fancy, love her,
Cynics to boot, I know the children run
Seeing her come, for naught that I discover
Save that she brings the summer and the sun.
LAURENCE.
Mine is a Lady, beautiful and queenly,
Crown’d with a sweet, continual control,
Grandly forbearing, lifting life serenely
E’en to her own nobility of soul.
FRANK.
Mine is a Woman, kindly beyond measure,
Fearless in praising; faltering in blame,
Simply devoted to other people’s pleasure.
Jack’s sister Florence. Now you know her name.
LAURENCE.
“Jack’s sister Florence!” Never, Francis, never!
Jack, do you hear? Why, it was She I meant.
She like the country! Ah! she’s far too clever.