FALK.
Prove, in a word, your title to be glad?
STRAWMAN.
Yes, in my path you've cast the stone of doubt,
And nobody but you can cast it out.
Between my kin and me you've set a bar,—
Remove the bar, the strangling noose undo—
FALK.
You possibly believe I keep the glue
Of lies for Happiness's in a broken jar?
STRAWMAN.
I do believe, the faith your reasons tore
To shreds, your reasons may again restore;
The limb that you have shatter'd, you can set;
Reverse your judgment,—the whole truth unfold,
Restate the case—I'll fly my banner yet—
FALK [haughtily].
I stamp no copper Happiness as gold.
STRAWMAN [looking fixedly at him].
Remember then that, lately, one whose scent
For truth is of the keenest told us this:
[With uplifted finger.
"There runs through all our life a Nemesis,
Which may delay, but never will relent."
[He goes towards the house.
STIVER
[Coming out with glasses on, and an open book
in his hand.
Pastor, you must come flying like the blast!
Your girls are sobbing—
THE CHILDREN [in the doorway].
Pa!
STIVER.
And Madam waiting!
[Strawman goes in.
This lady has no talent for debating.
[Puts the book and glasses in his pocket,
and approaches FALK.
Falk!
FALK.
Yes!