It is a rick that burns;
And a strange thing I'll count it if the rick
Be not old Huff's.
Sollers:
That flare a fired stack?
Huff:
Only one of my ricks alight? O Glory!
There may be chance for me yet.
Merrick:
Best take the train
To Droitwich, Huff.
Vine (at the door):
It would be like a stack,
But for the star.
Sollers (to WARP):
Yes, as you're so clever,
You can talk down maybe yon brandishing star!
Warp:
O, 'tis the star has flickt your brains? Indeed,
The tail swings long enough to-night for that.
Well, look your best at it; 'tis off again
To go its rounds, they tell me, from now on;
And the next time it swaggers in our sky,
The moles a long while will have tired themselves
Of having their easy joke with me.
[A pause.]
Merrick:
You mean
The flight of the star is from us?
Sollers:
But the world,
The whole world reckons on it battering us!
Warp:
Who told you that?
Sollers:
A dowser.
Merrick:
Where's he gone?
Warp:
A dowser! say a tramping conjurer.
You'll believe aught, if you believe a dowser.
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