Hud. Your hand,
My boy.
Cha. It was my head you wanted, sir,
When last we met.
Hud. Not so. I meant to save you,
But Hernda spiked my train. To have you die
Quite safely in a rumor was the sum
Of my intent against you.
Cha. You're not well,
My lord?
Hud. Most well!
Her. He's lost some sleep.
Hud. Tut, tut!
Cha. You stay full long in Goldusan. I thought
You nearer home.
Hud. I'm cruising in the gulf,
By th' morning papers,—the reliable ones.
The gutter rags have guessed me,—but no matter.
I've seen the play through, and I go to-morrow.
Pouf! It has been a game!
Cha. You speak as 'twere
At end.