Sir T. What purpose can it serve?
Lady S. It eases me
To talk of it. Do you remember, Tristram?
Sir T. What ghouls you are, you women! What hyenas,
Digging for ever in the past!
Lady S. Have you
Forgotten? Is your memory such a sieve?
Sir T. No! I remember many heady times
When although fortune scowled and fate undid
Our utmost toil, yet love and tranquil sleep
Fulfilled the night with this beneath our pillow,
And certain death at any moment ours.
Lady S. And always then the sombre clouds dispersed,
And fate began to build us up again.
Sir T. We slept together …
Lady S. Yes …
Sir T. Well, we shall see.
Lady S. [Takes up the book of the play and covers her eyes again]
I see the theatre—what was Warwick's brag?—
One tidal wave of wild humanity
From stalls to gallery, surging at your feet,
If Warwick Groom plays Troilus? Why that "if"?