Lady S. Yes;
But think: the first of such a play—so harsh,
So questionable.
Sir T. Interest follows Troilus:
This is a blow; but not a deadly one.
Lady S. And fortune's blows may prove caresses. Warwick
Can play the part.
Sir T. Groom? In my theatre? Martha!
Lady S. I once had leave to counsel you, though now
You shun me, Tristram——
Sir T. Martha!
Lady S. Yes, you do;
And take the mind of every one but me.
Tristram, you know my heart. Is it unclean
Like Warwick Groom's? You loved me once: has love
Fermented, like your friendship, into hate?
Sir T. Should not a woman's heart escape the probe
Men search each other with, the fathom line,
The dredge, the sunken shaft that brings to light
No pearls of price, no gems, nor golden ore,
But wreck and rust, drowned hopes and dead men's bones?
Lady S. There's terror in your mind: terror for me,
And terror for yourself!—But this is vain.—
I think that help has come; I yet may live.
The play, the play! No question Warwick Groom
Is Troilus to the accent. Have you lost
Your love of art along with other loves?
Sir T. Martha!