You try and fight with the thing that's on my side! Merrick: A ranter! Huff: A boozy one then. Dowser: Open yon door; 'Tis dark enough by now. Open it, you. Vine: Hold on. Have you got something fierce outside? Merrick: A Russian bear? Sollers: Dowsers can play strange games. Huff: No tricks! Dowser: This is a trick to rouse the world. [He opens the door.] Look out! Between the elms! There's my fierce thing. Merrick: He means the star with the tail like a feather of fire. Sollers: Comet, it's called. Huff: Do you mean the comet, mister? Dowser: What do you think of it? Huff: Pretty enough. But I saw a man loose off a rocket once; It made more stir and flare of itself; though yon Does better at steady burning. Dowser: Stir and flare! You'll soon forget your rocket. Merrick: Tell you what I thought last night, now, going home. Says I, 'Tis just like the look of a tadpole: if I saw A tadpole silver as a dace that swam Upside-down towards me through black water, I'ld see the plain spit of that star and his tail. Sollers: And how does your thought go? Dowser: It's what I know!-- A tadpole and a rocket!--My dear God, And I can still laugh out!--What do you think Your tadpole's made of? What lets your rocket fling Those streaming sparks across the half of night, Splashing the burning spray of its haste among The quiet business of the other stars? Ay, that's a fiery jet it leaves behind In such enormous drift! What sort of fire Is spouted so, spouted and never quenching?-- There is no name for that star's fire: it is The fire that was before the world was made, The fire that all the things we live among Remember being; and whitest fire we know Is its poor copy in their dreaming trance! Huff: That would be hell fire. Dowser: