Composure is the word. Composure is mute Harmony. BULLER. It may be so--but you will not deny that his nose is just a minim too long--and his mouth, at this moment, just a minim too open--and the crow-feet---- SEWARD. Enhance the power of those large drooping eyelids, heavy with meditation--of that high broad forehead, with the lines not the wrinkles of age. BULLER. He is much balder than he was on Deeside. SEWARD. Or fifty years before. They say that, in youth, the sight of his head of hair once silenced Mirabeau. BULLER. Why, Mirabeau's was black, and my grandmother told me North's was yellow--or rather green, like a star. NORTH. Your Grandmother, Buller, was the finest woman of her time. BULLER. Sleepers hear. Sometimes a single word from without, reaching the spiritual region, changes by its touch the whole current of their dreams. NORTH. I once told you that, Buller. At present I happen to be awake. But surely a man may sit on a swing-chair with his eyes shut, and his mouth open, without incurring the charge of somnolency. Where have you been? SEWARD. You told us, sir, not to disturb you till Two---- NORTH. But where have you been? SEWARD. We have written our despatches--read our London Papers--and had a pull in _Gutta Percha_ to and from Port Sonachan. NORTH. How does she pull? BULLER. Like a winner. I have written to the builder--Taylor of Newcastle--to match her against any craft of her keel in the kingdom. NORTH. Sit down. Where are the Boys. SEWARD. Off hours ago to Kilchurn. They have just signalised--"TWO O'CLOCK. 1 SALMO FEROX, lb. 12-20 YELLOW-FINS, lb. 15-6 PIKE, lb. 36." NORTH. And not bad sport, either. They know the dinner hour? Seven sharp. SEWARD. They do--and they are not the lads to disregard orders. NORTH. Four finer fellows are not in Christendom. SEWARD. May I presume to ask, sir, what volumes these are lying open on your knees? NORTH. THE ILIAD--and PARADISE LOST. SEWARD. I fear, sir, you may not be disposed to enlighten us, at this hour. NORTH. But I am disposed to be enlightened. Oxonians--and Double First-Class Men--nor truants since--you will find in me a docile pupil rather than a Teacher. I am no great Grecian. BULLER. But you are, sir; and a fine old Trojan too, methinks! What audacious word has escaped my lips! NORTH. Epic Poetry! Tell but a Tale, and see Childhood--the harmless, the trustful, the wondering, listen--"all ear;" and so has the wilder and mightier Childhood of Nations, listened, trustful, wondering, "all ear," to Tales lofty, profound--_said_, or, as Art grew up, _sung_. SEWARD. [Greek: EPE], Say or Tell. BULLER. [Greek: AEIDE], Sing. NORTH.