SCENE i PART SECOND
Maybe 'twas but a hoax to pocket pay; And yet it can mean more . . . "The man's indifference to his own vague doom Beamed out as one exalted trait in him, And showed the altitude of his rash dream !— Well, now I'll get me on to Downing Street, There to draw up a note to Talleyrand Retailing him the facts.—What signature Subscribed this desperate fellow when he wrote ?
SECRETARY " Guillet de la Gevrilliere." Here it stands.
Doubtless it was a false one. Come along.
(Looking out of the window.)
Ah—here's Sir Francis Vincent: hell go with us. Ugh, what a twinge! Time signals that he draws Towards the twelfth stroke of my working-day! I fear old England soon must voice her speech With Europe through another mouth than mine!
I trust not, sir. Though you should rest awhile.
The very servants half are invalid
From the unceasing labours of your post,
And these cloaked visitors of every clime
That market on your magnanimity
To gain an audience morning, night, and noon,
Leaving you no respite.
Tis true ; 'tis true.— How I shall love my summer holiday At pleasant Saint-Ann's Hill!
He leans on the secretary's arm, and they go out.