Was warning me that if a gentleman Should wed a farmer's daughter, he would be Sooner or later shamed of her among The ladies, born his equals. HAROLD. More fool he! What I that have been call'd a Socialist, A Communist, a Nihilist--what you will!-- DORA. What are all these? HAROLD. Utopian idiotcies. They did not last three Junes. Such rampant weeds Strangle each other, die, and make the soil For Caesars, Cromwells, and Napoleons To root their power in. I have freed myself From all such dreams, and some will say because I have inherited my Uncle. Let them. But--shamed of you, my Empress! I should prize The pearl of Beauty, 'even if I found it Dark with the soot of slums. DORA. But I can tell you, We Steers are of old blood, tho' we be fallen. See there our shield. (_Pointing to arms on mantelpiece_.) For I have heard the Steers Had land in Saxon times; and your own name Of Harold sounds so English and so old I am sure you must be proud of it. HAROLD. Not I! As yet I scarcely feel it mine. I took it For some three thousand acres. I have land now And wealth, and lay both at your feet. DORA. And _what_ was Your name before? HAROLD. Come, come, my girl, enough Of this strange talk. I love you and you me. True, I have held opinions, hold some still, Which you would scarce approve of: for all that, I am a man not prone to jealousies, Caprices, humours, moods; but very ready To make allowances, and mighty slow To feel offences. Nay, I do believe I could forgive--well, almost anything-- And that more freely than your formal priest, Because I know more fully than _he_ can What poor earthworms are all and each of us, Here crawling in this boundless Nature. Dora, If marriage ever brought a woman happiness I doubt not I can make you happy. DORA. You make me Happy already. HAROLD. And I never said As much before to any woman living. DORA. No? HAROLD. No! by this true kiss, _you_ are the first I ever have loved truly. [_They kiss each other_. EVA (_with a wild cry_). Philip Edgar! HAROLD. The phantom cry! _You_--did _you_ hear a cry? DORA. She must be crying out 'Edgar' in her sleep. HAROLD. Who must be crying out 'Edgar' in her sleep? DORA. Your pardon for a minute. She must be waked. HAROLD Who must be waked? DORA. I am not deaf: you fright me. What ails you? HAROLD. Speak. DORA. You know her, Eva. HAROLD. Eva! [EVA _opens the door and stands in the entry_. She! EVA. Make her happy, then, and I forgive you. [_Falls dead_.