Is as a dragging ivy on the growth
Of that strong tree, man's nature!

_Valentine_.
Yes. But now
Tell us a simpler sort of truth. Was she---

_Sylvan_.
She? Who?

_Valentine_.
Katrina, of course: who else, when one
Speaks of a she to you?

_Sylvan_.
And what about her?

_Valentine_.
Was she too cruel to you, or too kind?

_Sylvan_.
Ah, there's no hope for men like you; you're sunk
Above your consciences in smothering ponds
Of sweet imagination,--drowned in woman!

_Francis_.
Ay? Clarence and the Malmesey over again;
'Twas a delightful death.

_Valentine_.