'Let me go! I must speak to the people. They must learn the truth. They think _me_, Melchitsedek Pinchas, guilty of this _tohu-bohu_! My sun will set. I shall be laughed at from the Hudson to the Jordan.' 'Hush! Hush! You are interrupting the poesy.' 'Who has drawn and quartered my play? Speak!' 'I've only arranged it for the stage,' said Kloot, unabashed. 'You!' gasped the poet. 'You said I and you are the only two men who understand how to treat poesy.' 'You understand push-carts, not poesy!' hissed the poet. 'You conspire to keep me out of the theatre--I will summons you!' 'We had to keep all authors out. Suppose Shakespeare had turned up and complained of _you_.' 'Shakespeare would have been only too grateful.' 'Hush! The boss is going on.' From the opposite wing Hamlet was indeed advancing. Pinchas made a wild plunge forward, but Kloot's grasp on his collar was still carefully firm. 'Who's mutilating the poesy now?' Kloot frowned angrily from under his peaked cap. 'You'll spoil the scene.' 'Peace, liar! You promised me your wife for Ophelia!' Kloot's frown relaxed into a smile. 'Sure! The first wife I get you shall have.' Pinchas gnashed his teeth. Goldwater's voice rose in a joyous roulade. 'I think you owe me a car-fare,' said Kloot soothingly. Pinchas waved the rejoinder aside with his cane. 'Why does _Hamlet_ sing?' he demanded fiercely. 'Because it's Passover,' said Kloot. 'You are a "greener" in New York, otherwise you would know that it is a tradition to have musical plays on Passover. Our audiences wouldn't stand for any other. You're such an unreasonable cuss! Why else did we take your "Hamlet" for a Passover play?' 'But "Hamlet" isn't a musical play.' 'Yes, it is! How about Ophelia's songs? That was what decided us. Of course they needed eking out.' 'But "Hamlet" is a tragedy!' gasped Pinchas. 'Sure!' said Kloot cheerfully. 'They all die at the end. Our audiences would go away miserable if they didn't. You wait till they're dead, then you shall take your call.' 'Take my call, for _your_ play!' 'There's quite a lot of your lines left, if you listen carefully. Only you don't understand stage technique. Oh, I'm not grumbling; we're quite satisfied. The idea of adapting "Hamlet" for the Yiddish stage is yours, and it's worth every cent we paid.' A storm of applause gave point to the speaker's words, and removed the last partition between the poet's great mind and momentary madness. What! here was that ape of a Goldwater positively wallowing in admiration, while he, the mighty poet, had been cast into outer darkness and his work mocked and crucified! He put forth all his might, like Samson amid the Philistines, and leaving his coat-collar in Kloot's hand, he plunged into the circle of light. Goldwater's amazed face turned to meet him. 'Cutter of lines!' The poet's cane slashed across Hamlet's right cheek near the right eye. 'Perverter of poesy!' It slashed across the left cheek near the left eye.