O no!
I will not think of that; I'll blind my brain
With fancying the splendours of destruction;
When like a burr in the star's fiery mane
The crackling earth is caught and rusht along,
The forests on the mountains blazing so,
That from the rocks of ore beneath them come
White-hot rivers of smelted metal pouring
Across the plains to roar into the sea ...
[The curtain is lowered for a few moments only.]
ACT II
[As before, a little while after. The room is empty when the curtain
goes up. SOLLERS runs in and paces about, but stops short when he
catches sight of a pot dog on the mantelpiece.]
Sollers:
The pace it is coming down!--What to do now?--
My brain has stopt: it's like a clock that's fallen
Out of a window and broke all its cogs.--Where's
That old cider, Vine would have us pay
Twopence a glass for? Let's try how it smells:
Old Foxwhelp, and a humming stingo it is!
(To the pot dog)
Hullo, you! What are you grinning at?--
I know!
There'll be no score against me for this drink!
O that score! I've drunk it down for a week
With every gulp of cider, and every gulp
Was half the beauty it should have been, the score
So scratcht my swallowing throat, like a wasp in the drink!
And I need never have heeded it!--
Old grinning dog! You've seen me happy here;
And now, all's done! But do you know this too,
That I can break you now, and never called
To pay for you?
[Throwing the dog on the floor]
I shall be savage soon!
We're leaving all this!--O, and it was so pleasant
Here, in here, of an evening.
Pages:
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159