Sir T. [At the telephone] (Yes. Groom:
He takes the part. My great regret express
To all the principals, because to-day
I break their well-earned rest: pick out your words:
Summon them promptly to rehearse with Groom.
What? Surely. Fifty. See him when he comes.
No; extra: mornings, extra. Tut! I can't give less.
Yes; keep the understudy under arms.
Myself? At three. Box-office; libraries?
That's good … Ah! … Dubious: time will tell.)
Booked for a week, and there it stops!
Lady S. Oh, Tristram!
Let me see! [She presses one hand to her eyes and grasps the copy of
"Troilus and Cressida" tightly in the other.] Clear! Yes; if Groom
plays Troilus!
Sir T. If Groom plays——
Lady S. Hush! Again I see and hear!
[Throws away the book and uncovers her eyes.]
Psychic, or magic, out of heaven or hell
That message comes: "If Warwick Groom plays Troilus."
Sir T. It rings with menace.
Lady S. Terror! Should we fail?—
Oh, we are ruined, Tristram!
Sir T. Once for all!
That I am facing.
Lady S. They will help you yet!
Sir T. Not now. Failure to-night begins the end.
My personal triumph and the theatre's
Cannot be questioned——
Lady S. Who would dare!