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| Minerva. | Fair Hebe, moderate your youthful fire; And, Juno, pray restrain your haughty ire. See Isis, here,—in spite of all her woes— Sits like a monument of calm repose.— How feel you, Isis, after all your trouble? |
| Isis. | Kismet!—I would I had my hubble-bubble! |
| Minerva. | No smoking in boudoir divine's allowed. |
| Isis. | Divine!—would 'twere Divan! I'd raise a cloud. Oh! for a puff of fragrant Latakia!— Come, just one pipeful—there's a Bona Dea. |
| Thetis. | Leave clouds, and come to earth. |
| Isis. | Fast-tied, fast-bound!— See Czargrad rise, while Stamboul falls to ground! Betrayed by former friends, bereft, forlorn! My Sacred Cow scarce keeps her Golden Horn. |
| Thetis. | (aside) The Horn by Hornby's kept, (aloud) Not quite alone— Your native Egypt still is all your own. |
| Isis. | She, too, with "bonds" is hamper'd, hand and foot. |
| Thetis. | She breaks her bonds, and "breaks," herself, to boot. |
| Minerva. | Bluntly,—to business—why these bickerings vain? Let things be put before us, plump and plain! |
