But then, as now--it may be, something more-- Woman and man were human to the core. The hearts that throbbed behind that quaint attire Burned with a plenitude of essential fire. They too could risk, they also could rebel. They could love wisely--they could love too well. In that great duel of Sex, that ancient strife Which is the very central fact of life, They could--and did--engage it breath for breath, They could--and did--get wounded unto death. As at all times since time for us began Woman was truly woman, man was man. And joy and sorrow were as much at home In trifling Tunbridge as in mighty Rome. Dead--dead and done with! Swift from shine to shade The roaring generations flit and fade. To this one, fading, flitting, like the rest, We come to proffer--be it worst or best-- A sketch, a shadow, of one brave old time; A hint of what it might have held sublime; A dream, an idyll, call it what you will, Of man still Man, and woman--Woman still! W. E. H. BEAU AUSTIN MUSICAL INDUCTION: "Lascia ch'io pianga" (_Rinaldo_), HANDEL ACT I _The Stage represents Miss Foster's apartments at the Wells. Doors, L. and C.; a window, L.C., looking on the street; a table, R., laid for breakfast_ SCENE I _BARBARA; to her, MISS FOSTER_ BARBARA (_out of window_). Mr. Menteith! Mr. Menteith! Mr. Menteith!--Drat his old head! Will nothing make him hear?--Mr. Menteith! MISS FOSTER (_entering_). Barbara! this is incredible: after all my lessons, to be leaning from the window, and calling (for unless my ears deceived me, you were positively calling!) into the street. BARBARA. Well, madam, just wait until you hear who it was. I declare it was much more for Miss Dorothy and yourself than for me; and if it was a little countrified, I had a good excuse. MISS FOSTER. Nonsense, child! At least, who was it? BARBARA. Miss Evelina, I was sure you would ask. Well, what do you think? I was looking out of the window at the barber's opposite---- MISS FOSTER. Of which I entirely disapprove---- BARBARA. And first there came out two of the most beautiful--the Royal livery, madam! MISS FOSTER. Of course, of course: the Duke of York arrived last night. I trust you did not hail the Duke's footmen? BARBARA. O no, madam, it was after they were gone. Then, who should come out--but you'll never guess! MISS FOSTER. I shall certainly not try. BARBARA. Mr. Menteith himself! MISS FOSTER. Why, child, I never heard of him. BARBARA. O madam, not the Beau's own gentleman? MISS FOSTER. Mr. Austin's servant. No? Is it possible? By that, George Austin must be here. BARBARA. No doubt of that, madam; they're never far apart. He came out feeling his chin, madam, so; and a packet of letters under his arm, so; and he had the Beau's own walk to that degree you couldn't tell his back from his master's.