But is a man to be lost because he is bred and born with a weak character? Gentlemen, men like the prisoner are destroyed daily under our law for want of that human insight which sees them as they are, patients, and not criminals. If the prisoner be found guilty, and treated as though he were a criminal type, he will, as all experience shows, in all probability become one. PLAYS: THIRD SERIES: THE FUGITIVE /gutenberg/etext01/fugtv10.txt An upright, well-groomed, grey-moustached, red-faced man of sixty-seven, with a keen eye for molehills, and none at all for mountains. Blessed be the respectable! May they dream of--me! And blessed be all men of the world! May they perish of a surfeit of--good form! Besides, I oughtn't to have married if I wasn't going to be happy. You see, I'm not a bit misunderstood or ill-treated. It's only.... Very likely--the first birds do. But if she drops half-way it's better than if she'd never flown. Your sister, sir, is trying the wings of her spirit, out of the old slave market. For women as for men, there's more than one kind of dishonour, Captain Huntingdon, and worse things than being dead. Do you know, Clare, I think it's awful about you! You're too fine, and not fine enough, to put up with things; you're too sensitive to take help, and you're not strong enough to do without it. It's simply tragic. I've often noticed parsons' daughters grow up queer. Get too much morality and rice puddin'. LINES FROM THE TEXT: >From exchanging ideas to something else, isn't very far It isn't to be manufactured, is it? Keen eye for molehills, and none at all for mountains Love liberty in those who don't belong to us Made up my mind to go back to my owner May they perish of a surfeit of--good form! Never apologize Out of the old slave market Thorough-bred mongrel Too fine, and not fine enough THE PIGEON /gutenberg/etext01/pigon10.txt PASSAGES FROM THE TEXT: Monsieur, you have there the greatest comedy of life! How anxious are the tame birds to do the wild birds good. [His voice changes.] For the wild birds it is not funny. There is in some human souls, Monsieur, what cannot be made tame. If she is dead! What fortune! I am not good for her--it is not good for simple souls to be with those who see things clear. For the great part of mankind, to see anything--is fatal. To be so near to death has done me good; I shall not lack courage any more till the wind blows on my grave. We wild ones--we know a thousand times more of life than ever will those sirs. They waste their time trying to make rooks white. Be kind to us if you will, or let us alone like Mees Ann, but do not try to change our skins. LINES FROM THE TEXT: