Europa. Tristram! Tristram! See How beautiful I am! Not dressed yet! Fie! Kiss me; my bosom. Are you tired of me? I pout then! Dear, to-day: so good you were That I can think of nothing in the world But to be yours; and you must come to-night! My love is inexhaustible: as like Irradiant metal that scatters momently Its multitudinous lustre, as summer-time Is like the month of June: the more it spends The more it has to spend. [Opens the door of the Business-room and turns up the light.] And, dear, I need Some money; men with bills molested me As I came up the stairs; the attendants here Relax their duties sadly: I believe They're not above a bribe. [Sir Tristram closes the door of his Dressing-room, and takes from the secret drawer in the Business-room some bank-notes, which he hands to Europa.] How much? Sir T. The whole! You've had it all. This was a treacherous hoard, And rightly spent on you. In any way Of honest business, or dishonest art, It had been worse than lost, like fairy gold That turns to shreds of flint when daylight kills Its phantom glory. It was wisely spent. We have obliged each other. [Sir Tristram enters his Dressing-room, and speaks from it unseen.] Europa. How hard you are! Harder than me. But you will come to-night? Sir T. Perhaps. You know this splendid play will fail. Europa. Our parts will save it, Tristram; you and I. What chiming prattle do we love to hear-- "The play is nothing; but the acting? Ah, "Sir Tristram! Oh, Europa!" Stupid plays Are what we want, with skeletons to drape In flesh and blood of us. You'll come to-night? Sir T. If the play fails? Europa. Can't I console you, Tristram? Sir T. If it succeeds? Europa. You triumph in my arms. Sir T. Not tired of me? Europa. Not nearly! Hateful word! Are _you_ tired, Tristram? Sir T. A little, of myself. Europa. Come home with me to-night, and you shall fall In love with Tristram Sumner. I have charms Beyond belief to make men love themselves. You come? Sir T. I come. Europa. The coda, Tristram! Quick! Clang, clash, sapristi, pomb! The overture Is over. I must hear St. James's speak His prologue. Sir T. Do. And send me word at once How they receive him. Europa. I shall send my love A message of episcopal debuts, Episcopal debuts, episcopal---- [Goes out] [Enter Lady Sumner.] Sir T. [Still from his Dressing-room] That some one? Lady S. Yes. Sir T. Who is it? Lady S. One you wished Never to see again. Sir T. My wife! Lady S. That was. I came in haste. I had a deep resolve; But all my purpose crumbled as I passed Europa Troop in the corridor. Sir T. [At the door of his Dressing-room] Who else! What other actress could you hope to meet? She takes the heroine in our play to-night.