You see? Too late!
SEMI-CHORUS OF PUBLISHERS
Who shall escape o'ermastering tragic fate?
(They go off and sob in two rows in the corners, while the rest of the Masque, except ATÉ, who looks at them as if she weren't through yet, and the MUSE, form up to do a dance symbolic of One Being Born Every Minute. They sing:)
The Day has come that we adore,
The Day we've all been working for;
The Day has come, tra la, tra lee!
Everybody writes Poetry!
THE MUSE (unnoticed in the background)