Warp:
Do you think the whole land hearkens to the flurry
Of an old dog biting at a young dog's throat?
Merrick:
No, no! Not their shrill yapping; you've not heard
The world's near to be blasted?
Warp:
No mutter of it.
I am from walking the whole ground I trap,
And there's no likeness of it, but the moles
I've turned up dead and dried out of three counties.
Sollers:
Why, but the fire that's eating the whole earth;
The breath of it is scarlet in the sky!
You must have seen that?
Warp:
But what's taken you?
You are like boys that go to hunt for ghosts,
And turn the scuttle of rats to a roused demon
Crawling to shut the door of the barn they search.
Fire? Yes, fire is playing a pretty game
Yonder, and has its golden fun to itself,
Seemingly.