Ay, if you like, hell fire, Hell fire flying through the night! 'Twould be A thing to blink about, a blast of it Swept in your face, eh? and a thing to set The whole stuff of the earth smoking rarely? Which of you said 'the heat's a wonder to-night'? You have not done with marvelling. There'll come A night when all your clothes are a pickle of sweat, And, for all that, the sweat on your salty skin Shall dry and crack, in the breathing of a wind That's like a draught come through an open'd furnace. The leafage of the trees shall brown and faint, All sappy growth turning to brittle rubbish As the near heat of the star strokes the green earth; And time shall brush the fields as visibly As a rough hand brushes against the nap Of gleaming cloth--killing the season's colour, Each hour charged with the wasting of a year; And sailors panting on their warping decks Will watch the sea steam like broth about them. You'll know what I know then!--That towering star Hangs like a fiery buzzard in the night Intent over our earth--Ay, now his journey Points, straight as a plummet's drop, down to us! Huff: Why, that's the end of the world! Dowser: You've said it now. Sollers: What, soon? In a day or two? Merrick: You can't mean that! Vine: End of the World! Well now, I never thought To hear the news of that. If you've the truth In what you say, likely this is an evening That we'll be talking over often and often. 'How was it, Sellers?' I'll say; 'or you, Merrick, Do you mind clearly how he lookt?'--And then-- "End of the world" he said, and drank--like that, Solemn!'--And right he was: he had it all As sure as I have when my sow's to farrow. Dowser: Are you making a joke of me? Keep your mind For tippling while you can. Vine: Was that a joke? I'm always bad at seeing 'em, even my own. Dowser: A fool's! 'Twill cheer you when the earth blows up. Like as it were all gunpowder. Vine: You mean The star will butt his burning head against us? 'Twill knock the world to flinders, I suppose? Dowser: Ay, or with that wild, monstrous tail of his Smash down upon the air, and make it bounce Like water under the flukes of a harpooned whale, And thrash it to a poisonous fire; and we And all the life of the world drowned in blazing! Vine: 'Twill be a handsome sight. If my old wife Were with me now! This would have suited her. 'I do like things to happen!' she would say; Never shindy enough for her; and now She's gone, and can't be seeing this! Dowser: You poor fool. How will it be a sight to you, when your eyes Are scorcht to little cinders in your head? Vine: Whether or no, there must be folks outside Willing to know of this. I'll scatter your news. [He goes.] [A short-pause: then SOLLERS breaks out.] Sollers: