ASTRAEA: By whose? Pursuit that seemed incessant: persecution. Besides, I have changed since then: I change; I change; It is too true I change. I could esteem You better did you change. And had you heard The noble words this morning from the mouth Of our professor, changed were you, or raised Above love-thoughts, love-talk, and flame and flutter, High as eternal snows. What said he else, My uncle Homeware? ARDEN: That you were not free: And that he counselled us to use our wits. ASTRAEA: But I am free I free to be ever free! My freedom keeps me free! He counselled us? I am not one in a conspiracy. I scheme no discord with my present life. Who does, I cannot look on as my friend. Not free? You know me little. Were I chained, For liberty I would sell liberty To him who helped me to an hour's release. But having perfect freedom . . . ARDEN: No. ASTRAEA: Good sir, You check me? ARDEN: Perfect freedom? ASTRAEA: Perfect! ARDEN: No! ASTRAEA: Am I awake? What blinds me? ARDEN: Filaments The slenderest ever woven about a brain From the brain's mists, by the little sprite called Fancy. A breath would scatter them; but that one breath Must come of animation. When the heart Is as, a frozen sea the brain spins webs. ASTRAEA: 'Tis very singular! I understand. You translate cleverly. I hear in verse My uncle Homeware's prose. He has these notions. Old men presume to read us. ARDEN: Young men may. You gaze on an ideal reflecting you Need I say beautiful? Yet it reflects Less beauty than the lady whom I love Breathes, radiates. Look on yourself in me. What harm in gazing? You are this flower You are that spirit. But the spirit fed With substance of the flower takes all its bloom! And where in spirits is the bloom of the flower? ASTRAEA: 'Tis very singular. You have a tone Quite changed. ARDEN: You wished a change. To show you, how I read you . . .