CONFUCIUS. So early? If the Minister of Health rings you up, what shall I tell her?
BURGE-LUBIN. Tell her to go to the devil. [He goes out].
CONFUCIUS [shaking his head, shocked at the President's impoliteness] No. No, no, no, no, no. Oh, these English! these crude young civilizations! Their manners! Hogs. Hogs.
PART IV—Tragedy of an Elderly Gentleman
ACT I
Burrin pier on the south shore of Galway Bay in Ireland, a region of stone-capped hills and granite fields. It is a fine summer day in the year 3000 A.D. On an ancient stone stump, about three feet thick and three feet high, used for securing ships by ropes to the shore, and called a bollard or holdfast, an elderly gentleman sits facing the land with his head bowed and his face in his hands, sobbing. His sunburnt skin contrasts with his white whiskers and eyebrows. He wears a black frock-coat, a white waistcoat, lavender trousers, a brilliant silk cravat with a jewelled pin stuck in it, a tall hat of grey felt, and patent leather boots with white spats. His starched linen cuffs protrude from his coat sleeves; and his collar, also of starched white linen, is Gladstonian. On his right, three or four full sacks, lying side by side on the flags, suggest that the pier, unlike many remote Irish piers, is occasionally useful as well as romantic. On his left, behind him, a flight of stone steps descends out of sight to the sea level.