Lady S. Hush! Again I see and hear! [Throws away the book and uncovers her eyes.] Psychic, or magic, out of heaven or hell That message comes: "If Warwick Groom plays Troilus." Sir T. It rings with menace. Lady S. Terror! Should we fail?-- Oh, we are ruined, Tristram! Sir T. Once for all! That I am facing. Lady S. They will help you yet! Sir T. Not now. Failure to-night begins the end. My personal triumph and the theatre's Cannot be questioned---- Lady S. Who would dare! Sir T. But debt Increases like a tide when sun and moon Uplift the mass of waters and the west Scourges the huge Atlantic. Now you laugh: That's best. My guarantors withdraw their names To-night, if failure knells the curtain down. Lady S. Tristram!--our own account!--that's overdrawn! Sir T. And overdrawn again! Lady S. The tragedy! The only tragedy! The end of love, The loss of children, snuffing out of hope, Decay of soul is happiness itself Beside the want of means--with our desires, Experience, fancies, dreams. Sir T. Yes, but you laughed; And you must laugh again and yet again. Why, Martha, with a roof above our heads, A crust to eat, we will be what we are, The essence of ourselves, in every fate. Lady S. Live poor again? Not for a moment, Tristram! No man can be himself in poverty, Nor woman either: all the world knows that, And sweats and aches and lies and sins for wealth. No, Tristram; but the old deliverance. Sir T. What? Lady S. [Takes a vial from her pocket] This, that so often set our hearts at rest. Sir T. Have I not told you never to show me that? Lady S. Yes; but I show it. Is your courage gone? Are you afraid to look upon the past? Sir T. What purpose can it serve? Lady S. It eases me To talk of it. Do you remember, Tristram? Sir T. What ghouls you are, you women! What hyenas, Digging for ever in the past! Lady S. Have _you_ Forgotten? Is your memory such a sieve? Sir T. No! I remember many heady times When although fortune scowled and fate undid Our utmost toil, yet love and tranquil sleep Fulfilled the night with this beneath our pillow, And certain death at any moment ours. Lady S. And always then the sombre clouds dispersed, And fate began to build us up again. Sir T. We slept together ... Lady S. Yes ... Sir T. Well, we shall see. Lady S. [Takes up the book of the play and covers her eyes again] I see the theatre--what was Warwick's brag?-- One tidal wave of wild humanity From stalls to gallery, surging at your feet, If Warwick Groom plays Troilus? Why that "if"? Sir T. There's menace there! Lady S. Why can't I hear it say, "_Since_ Warwick Groom plays Troilus"? ... Can't we die At once? If you would only care to die! I should be glad to die: I am very tired.