Yes. MRS. STRAWMAN. His voice is so Like Strawman’s when he— STRAWMAN. Don’t disturb his flow. FALK. It has its home in fabled lands serene; Thousands of miles of desert lie between;— Fill up, Lind!—So.—Now in a tea-oration, I’ll show of tea and Love the true relation. [_The guests cluster round him._ It has its home in the romantic land; Alas, Love’s home is also in Romance, Only the Sun’s descendants understand The herb’s right cultivation and advance. With Love it is not otherwise than so. Blood of the Sun along the veins must flow If Love indeed therein is to strike root, And burgeon into blossom, into fruit. MISS JAY. But China is an ancient land; you hold In consequence that tea is very old— STRAWMAN. Past question antecedent to Jerusalem. FALK. Yes, ’twas already famous when Methusalem His picture-books and rattles tore and flung— MISS JAY [_triumphantly_]. And Love is in its very nature young! To find a likeness there is pretty bold. FALK. No; Love, in truth, is also very old; That principle we here no more dispute Than do the folks of Rio or Beyrout. Nay, there are those from Cayenne to Caithness, Who stand upon its everlastingness;— Well, that may be a slight exaggeration, But old it is beyond all estimation. MISS JAY. But Love is all alike; whereas we see Both good and bad and middling kinds of tea! MRS. STRAWMAN. Yes, they sell tea of many qualities. ANNA. The green spring shoots I count the very first— SVANHILD. Those serve to quench celestial daughters’ thirst. A YOUNG LADY. Witching as ether fumes they say it is— ANOTHER. Balmy as lotus, sweet as almond, clear— GULDSTAD. That’s not an article we deal in here. FALK [_who has meanwhile come down from the verandah_].