Egerton.
Come right in.
If you'll allow me, friends, suppose you stand
Where you can have my forest in your eye.
(He arranges them to face right)
I don't see, ladies, how you ever endure
The dulness of these males. We've been at riddles.
Come in. I've kept my best wine for the last.
(He steps back near the door, centre right)
Suppose you'd made an Adam out of clay,
Worked years to get it to your satisfaction,
And now you're looking at it, hands all washed
And mind confronting, weighing what's been done.
Suddenly you're aware of something standing by you
That whispers in your left ear: 'Make a wish
Within the power of God.' What would it be?
Bishop Hardbrooke.
To see it walk about the garden, brother.
Egerton.
Suppose your Adam was a pine-wood, Bishop,
That couldn't walk.