BEATRICE—She is perfectly beautiful and clever and self-possessed ...
her poor father described her perfectly when he called her his swan. “My
proud, white swan!” ... And she is just like that,—majestic, silent,
earnest ... holds her head high ... conducts herself irreproachably. Yet
Albert is utterly indifferent to her. It’s disheartening!
HYACINTH—Beatrice, it is not like you to lose control of yourself like
this.
BEATRICE—[_Nervously._] I know, but I can’t help it. This is my last
great battle, not mine alone but our family’s. Now or never. Well, I
mean to win if I ruin myself in the attempt. [_SYMPHOROSA speaks in the
doorway._]
SYMPHOROSA—He is sleeping peacefully.