STRANGER. How did he lose his wits?
DOCTOR. Who can tell. It's a disease of the mind, not the body.
STRANGER. Tell me—is he here—now?
DOCTOR. Yes. He's free to wander in the garden and arrange creation. But if his presence disquiets you, we can shut him up.
STRANGER. Why aren't such poor devils put out of—their misery?
DOCTOR. It's hard to know whether they're ripe....
STRANGER. What for?
DOCTOR. For what's to come.
STRANGER. There is nothing. (Pause.)
DOCTOR. Who knows!