Sir T. Gervase! High On Heaven's dark brow we'll hang your name to-night. [Looking over the letters.] Bills: invitations. Why should people charge Each other for the things they need; and why Should one man want to meet another man? We know what men are. In a million, one May have the right to meet his fellows--No; Not one in twenty millions! Men deserve Each other's scorn.--There's nothing, Hildreth, nothing. Hildreth. Sir Tristram, I implore you! Sir T. Leave us, Hildreth. You shall command me when the curtain falls. You please me always, Hildreth. [Hildreth goes out] St. J. So distraught! You're like a woman, Tristram. Sir T. A woman? True: Old men are like old women. Don't we know How age makes neuters of us? All alike Unhappy; cold and bloodless, curst and shrill! St. J. I understand! The black rings round your eyes-- Court mourning for a day of passion, spent In some shameless bosom! Once you could drain The fount of energy as genial men Will do, may do; but when the world appears Thereafter like a desolate seaboard stripped At ebb of tide, men must begin to spare Their native power: the nerves are perilous things To sport with: palsy a price exorbitant For passing pleasure: to adventure youth Throughout one's life--why, Tristram, that's To burn the candle in the middle too! Sir T. I burnt A torch to-day to Aphrodite: yes; And burnt it out: the more fool I; for love Should leave a gathering coal. I know, I know! But fear not you; my unclogged intellect Will fling the prophet's part I play to-night Across the footlights like a shower of stars, Of falling stars. St. J. Distort not hazardous tropes To evil omens! Sir T. Expect no triumph, Gervase. A stormy night; shipwreck, perhaps. St. J. At least My prologue will compel a tolerant mood. Sir T. A paying audience tolerant! Money's worth; They come to be arrested, entertained. Your speech will goad a curiosity Already piqued. The play's a great event, No doubt; but your success may be the world's Defeat. St. J. The world's defeat? Sir T. By which I mean You come a hundred years before your time. St. J. You must not think, nor feel that! Heart and brain The world is with us, waiting for our word. Sir T. The world is waiting always for the word It must obey, the news it must believe; But never recognizes what it needs, And worships only craft and jugglery. It loves to see a well-known trick performed Another way, to hear an old lie told Divertingly in some fresh parable. St. J. That's not the great mood, Tristram.