Rouse. The overture,
My lord.
[Disappears.]
St. J. I come, I come.—Strange fear perturbs
Me suddenly.
Sir T. But that's a certain sign
Of perfect power. The house will welcome you:
We love frank courage still.
St. J. Courage? What courage?
Having some gift of oratory, I
Deliver my own prologue. Courage once
Took heart in men when those who thought and spake
Were racked and roasted: this attempt
Exacts effrontery: not courage.
Sir T. Say
Effrontery: you do it; it is yours;
A piece of you: accept it; love it therefore.
St. J. A shamefulness attends this thing. The house
Will hiss me, Tristram.
Sir T. No; your fervid voice
Will mould and temper to delight the crude
Anticipation of the audience. Speak
Like one inspired; speak, Gervase, like yourself.
[St. James's goes out.]
Now, Temple, quickly!
[As Sir Tristram crosses to his Dressing-room Europa Troop enters, dressed for her part.]