STRAWMAN.
Don't disturb his flow.
FALK.
It has its home in fabled lands serene;
Thousands of miles of desert lie between;—
Fill up, Lind!—So.—Now in a tea-oration,
I'll show of tea and Love the true relation.
[The guests cluster round him.
It has its home in the romantic land;
Alas, Love's home is also in Romance,
Only the Sun's descendants understand
The herb's right cultivation and advance.
With Love it is not otherwise than so.
Blood of the Sun along the veins must flow
If Love indeed therein is to strike root,
And burgeon into blossom, into fruit.
MISS JAY.
But China is an ancient land; you hold
In consequence that tea is very old—
STRAWMAN.
Past question antecedent to Jerusalem.
FALK.
Yes, 'twas already famous when Methusalem
His picture-books and rattles tore and flung—
MISS JAY [triumphantly].
And love is in its very nature young!
To find a likeness there is pretty bold.
FALK.
No; Love, in truth, is also very old;
That principle we here no more dispute
Than do the folks of Rio or Beyrout.
Nay, there are those from Cayenne to Caithness,
Who stand upon its everlastingness;—
Well, that may be slight exaggeration,
But old it is beyond all estimation.
MISS JAY.
But Love is all alike; whereas we see
Both good and bad and middling kinds of tea!
MRS. STRAWMAN.
Yes, they sell tea of many qualities.
ANNA.
The green spring shoots I count the very first—