CREMER. Jack Cremer. [The big man's figure appears out of the shadow of the barn] That yu, zurr? STRANGWAY. Yes, Jack. How goes it? CREMER. 'Tes empty, zurr. But I'll get on some'ow. STRANGWAY. You put me to shame. CREMER. No, zurr. I'd be killin' meself, if I didn' feel I must stick it, like yu zaid. [They stand gazing at each other in the moonlight.] STRANGWAY. [Very low] I honour you. CREMER. What's that? [Then, as STRANGWAY does not answer] I'll just be walkin'--I won' be gain' 'ome to-night. 'Tes the full mune-- lucky. STRANGWAY. [Suddenly] Wait for me at the crossroads, Jack. I'll come with you. Will you have me, brother? CREMER. Sure! STRANGWAY. Wait, then. CREMER. Aye, zurr. [With his heavy tread CREMER passes on. And STRANGWAY leans against the lintel of the door, looking at the moon, that, quite full and golden, hangs not far above the straight horizon, where the trees stand small, in a row.] STRANGWAY. [Lifting his hand in the gesture of prayer] God, of the moon and the sun; of joy and beauty, of loneliness and sorrow--give me strength to go on, till I love every living thing! [He moves away, following JACK CREMER. The full moon shines; the owl hoots; and some one is shaking TIBBY'S tambourine.] THE FOUNDATIONS (AN EXTRAVAGANT PLAY) PERSONS OF THE PLAY LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY, M.P. LADY WILLIAM DROMONDY LITTLE ANNE MISS STOKES MR. POULDER JAMES HENRY THOMAS CHARLES THE PRESS LEMMY OLD MRS. LEMMY LITTLE AIDA THE DUKE OF EXETER Some ANTI-SWEATERS; Some SWEATED WORKERS; and a CROWD SCENES SCENE I. The cellar at LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY'S in Park Lane. SCENE II. The room of old MRS. LEMMY in Bethnal Green. SCENE III. Ante-room of the hall at LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY'S The Action passes continuously between 8 and 10.30 of a summer evening, some years after the Great War. ACT I LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY'S mansion in Park Lane. Eight o'clock of the evening. LITTLE ANNE DROMONDY and the large footman, JAMES, gaunt and grin, discovered in the wine cellar, by light of gas. JAMES, in plush breeches, is selecting wine. L. ANNE: James, are you really James? JAMES. No, my proper name's John. L. ANNE. Oh! [A pause] And is Charles's an improper name too? JAMES. His proper name's Mark. L. ANNE. Then is Thomas Matthew? JAMES. Miss Anne, stand clear o' that bin. You'll put your foot through one o' those 'ock bottles. L. ANNE. No, but James--Henry might be Luke, really? JAMES. Now shut it, Miss Anne! L. ANNE. Who gave you those names? Not your godfathers and godmothers? JAMES. Poulder. Butlers think they're the Almighty. [Gloomily] But his name's Bartholomew. L. ANNE. Bartholomew Poulder? It's rather jolly. JAMES. It's hidjeous. L. ANNE. Which do you like to be called--John or James? JAMES. I don't give a darn. L. ANNE. What is a darn? JAMES. 'Tain't in the dictionary.