AN AUNT [_patting_ ANNA’S _hand_]. And growing exquisitely sensible. FALK [_laughing aloud_]. O parody of sense, that rives and rends In maniac dance upon the lips of friends! Was it good sense he wanted? Or a she- Professor of the lore of Cookery? A joyous son of springtime he came here, For the wild rosebud on the bush he burned. You reared the rosebud for him; he returned— And for his rose found what? The hip! MISS JAY [_offended_]. You jeer! FALK. A useful household condiment, heaven knows! But yet the hip was not his bridal rose. MRS. HALM. O, if it is a ball-room queen he wants, I’m very sorry; these are not their haunts. FALK. O yes, I know the pretty coquetry They carry on with “Domesticity.” It is a suckling of the mighty Lie That, like hop-tendrils, spreads itself on high. , madam, reverently bare my head To the ball queen; a child of beauty she— And the ideal’s golden woof is spread In ball-rooms, hardly in the nursery. MRS. HALM [_with suppressed bitterness_]. Your conduct, sir, is easily explained; A plighted lover cannot be a friend; That is the kernel of the whole affair; I have a very large experience there. FALK. No doubt,—with seven nieces, each a wife— MRS. HALM. And each a happy wife— FALK [_with emphasis_]. Ah, do we know? GULDSTAD. How! MISS JAY. Mr. Falk! LIND. Are you resolved to sow Dissension? FALK [_vehemently_]. Yes, war, discord, turmoil, strife! STIVER. What you, a lay, profane outsider here! FALK. No matter, still the battle-flag I’ll rear! Yes, it is war I mean with nail and tooth Against the Lie with the tenacious root, The lie that you have fostered into fruit, For all its strutting in the guise of truth! STIVER. Against these groundless charges I protest, Reserving right of action— MISS JAY. Do be still! FALK.