_Francos:_ Well gentlemen, I see insistence grows Anent the humble office Carpen holds. It seemeth to me that without his aid I like a desert wanderer am lost. _Quezox:_ But Sire, a man of parts can fill his place And of the varied strings of business tie a knot Which will hold state affairs in proper place, For they depend not on an special one. _1st Gentleman:_ Sire, shall we, like the child, forever creep? It is not thus the limbs find strength to walk. _2d Gentleman:_ The mother thrusts her birdling from its nest And thus it learns to wing its heavenward flight. _3d Gentleman:_ The doting father who trusts not his son But anxious coddles him from ev'ry care Can never know what possibilities Do dormant lie within that stunted brain. _Francos, hesitatingly:_ But Quezox, when the father's anxious eye Doth quick discern some symptom which doth like The weather-cock, respond to ev'ry breeze Prudence would whisper, "It were well to wait." _Quezox:_ Ah, Sire, Procrastination is a thief Which steals the treasure hidden in the brain, While if it were supplanted by stern acts Like to the sword 'twould ward off ev'ry foe. _Francos:_ Ah lack-a-day! Uncertainty doth fill My mind. I would not aspirations block With idle fears, but still I must beware, Or when too late, these fears may take on life. _All speak:_ Fear is a coward word and always flees When Action shows himself armed cap-a-pie And thus prepared to wage aggressive fight. Hence, honored sire let's throw it to the dogs! _Francos, fretfully:_ Well, have it as thou wilt, and on thy heads Blame shall her thistled crown with pomp bestow If Failure thrusts her grim and wrinkled face With grinning smile to comment on our work. _All:_ Thanks, and again more thanks, most noble Sire! The sun of Freedom shows her smiling face Above the horizon of discontent, Portending happy day so long delayed. _(Exeunt Quezox and Gentlemen to waiting room)_ _Scene 3: Waiting Room._