They wrestle savagely.
Sollers:
Keep off;
I'm the first here. Lap what you've spilt of mine.
Merrick:
You with your chiselling and screw-driving,
Your wooden work, you bidding me, the man
Who hammers a meaning into red hot iron?
VINE comes in slowly. He is weeping; the two wrestlers stop and stare at him, as he sits down, and holds his head in his hands, sobbing.
Vine:
O this is a cruel affair!
Sollers:
Here's Vine crying!