Dick thought he would like to have a shot at the king, and they were soon talking about a Shakespearean theatre devoted to the performance of Shakespearean plays. 'A theatre,' she said, 'that would devote itself to the representation of all the heroes in the world; those who spoke noble thoughts and performed noble deeds, thought and deed encompassing each other, instead of which we have a thousand theatres devoted to the representations of the fashions of the moment. So I'm forced to come here at midday, for at midday there is solitude and sacred silence, or else the clashing of waves. Here at midday I can fancy myself alone with my heroes.' 'And who are your heroes, may I ask?' said Dick. 'Many are in Shakespeare,' she answered, 'and many are here in this manuscript. The heroes of the ancient world, when men were nearer to the gods than they are now. For men,' she added, 'in my belief, are not moving towards the Godhead, but away from it.' 'And who are the heroes that you've written about?' Dick asked, and fearing she would enter into too long an explanation he asked if the manuscript she held in her hand was a play. 'No, a poem,' she answered. 'I'm studying it for recitation, one I'm going to recite after my lecture at the Working Men's Club; and the subject of my lecture is the inherent nobility of man, and the necessity of man worship. Women have turned from men and are occupied now with their own aspirations, losing sight thereby of the ideal that God gave them. My poem is a sort of abstract, an epitome, a compendium of the lecture itself.' Dick did not understand, but the fact that a lady was going in for recitation argued that she was interested in theatricals, and with his ears pricked like a hound who has got wind of something, he said with a sweet smile that showed a whole row of white teeth: 'Being an actor myself, I will take the liberty of asking you to allow me to look at your poem, and perhaps if you're studying for recitation I may be of use to you.' 'Of the very greatest use,' the lady answered, and handed him her manuscript; 'one of a set of classical cartoons,' she added. 'Humanity in large lines,' he replied. 'How quickly you understand,' she rapped out; 'removed altogether from the tea-table in subject and in metre. What have you got to say, my hero, to me about my rendering of these lines? '"The offspring of Neptune and Terra, daughters of earth and ocean, Dowered with fair faces of woman, capping the bodies of vultures; Armed with sharp, keen talons; crushing and rending and slaying, Blackening and blasting, defiling, spoiling the meats of all banquets; Plundering, perplexing, pursuing, cursing the lives of our heroes, Ever the Harpyiae flourish--just as a triumph of evil."'