‘Well, well, my dear nephew, if you like to make a theory of it, pray write it out for yourself nicely in full; but your poor old uncle does not like theories, and is moreover sadly sleepy.’ ‘Good night, dear uncle, good night. Only let me say you six more verses.’ _DIPSYCHUS CONTINUED._ A FRAGMENT. [_An interval of thirty years._] SCENE I.—_In London. Dipsychus in his Study._ _Dipsychus._ O God! O God! and must I still go on Doing this work—I know not, hell’s or thine; And these rewards receiving—sure not thine; The adulation of a foolish crowd, Half foolish and half greedy; upright judge— Lawyer acute—the Mansfield and the Hale In one united to bless modern Courts. O God! O God! According to the law, With solemn face to solemn sentence fit, Doing the justice that is but half just; Punishing wrong that is not truly wrong! Administering, alas, God! not Thy law. (_Knock at the door._) What? Is the hour already for the Court? Come in. Now, Lord Chief Justice, to thy work. (_Enter a Servant._) _Serv._ My lord, a woman begging to be seen. _Di._ A woman begging to be seen? What’s this? ’Tis not the duty of your post, my friend, To give admittance on the busy days Of a hard labourer in this great world To all poor creatures begging to be seen. Something unusual in it? Bid her wait In the room below, I’ll see her as I pass. Is the horse there? _Serv._ He’s coming round, my lord. _Di._ Say I will see her as I pass. (_Exit Servant._) I have but one way left; but that one way, On which once entered, there is no return; And as there’s no return, no looking back, Amidst the smoky tumult of this field Whereon, enlisted once, in arms we stand, Nor know, nor e’en remotely can divine The sense, or purport, or the probable end, One only guide to our blind work we keep, To obey orders, and to fight it out. Some hapless sad petitioner, no doubt, With the true plaintiveness of real distress, Twisting her misery to a marketable lie, To waste my close-shorn interval of rest. _She_ came upon me in my weaker thoughts, Those weaker thoughts that still indeed recur, But come, my servants, at a word to go. (_Enter Woman._) What is it? what have you to say to me? Who are you? _Wom._ Once you knew me well enough. _Di._ Oh, you! I had been told that you were dead. _Wom._ So your creatures said; But I shall live, I think, till you die too. _Di._ What do you want? Money, subsistence, bread? _Wom._ I wanted bread, money, all things, ’tis true, But wanted, above all things, to see you. _Di._ This cannot be. What has been done is o’er. You have no claim or right against me more; I have dealt justly with you to the uttermost. _Wom._ I did not come to say you were unjust— I came to see you only.