Violet.
Nay, good uncle, thou wouldst not have the tree cut down. ’Tis a good and thrifty tree that never did harm to any one, and therefore I love the tree. [Takes his arm.] Dear uncle, do not cut it down. Thou art a good, dear uncle, and I will go with thee; and thou wilt let the tree live.
Northlake [going].
Well, then, come, come! I’ll let the tree live.
[Exeunt.
Scene II.—A pavilion, with view of the sea. Forenoon.
Enter Whetstone, Bluegrass, and Scythe.
Scythe.
Who knows but, in the chemistry of Heaven, we, this noble race of men, are but parasites feeding in space upon a crust of earth encompassing a fiery particle!