Nay, you there, sirrah boy,
Leave us together; as 'tis said in the play,
'Come, leave us, Boy!'
[Dickon does not move. He gives a sigh and leans his head against The Player's knee, his arms around his legs. He sleeps. The Player gazes sternly into the fire, while Wat rambles on, growing drowsy.]
Wat.
The cub there snores good counsel. When all's done,
What a bubble is ambition!... When all's done....
What's yet to do?... Why, sleep.... Yet even now
I was on fire to see myself and you
Off for the Colony with Raleigh's men.
I've been beholden to 'ee.... Why, for thee
I could make shift to suffer plays o' Thursday.
Thou'rt the best man among them, o' my word.
There's other trades and crafts and qualities
Could serve ... an thou wouldst lay thy wit to mine.
Us two!... us two!...
The Player [apart, to the fire].
"Fair, kind, and true."...
Wat. ... Poor Nick!
[He nods over his ale. There is muffled noise in the taproom. Someone opens the door a second, letting in a stave of a song, then slams the door shut. The Player, who has turned, gloomily, starts to rise. Dickon moves in his sleep, sighs heavily, and settles his cheek against The Player's shoes. The Player looks down for a moment. Then he sits again, looking now at the fire, now at the boy, whose hair he touches.]
The Player.
So, heavy-head. You bid me think my thought
Twice over; keep me by, a heavy heart,
As ballast for thy dream. Well, I will watch ...
Like slandered Providence. Nay, I'll not be
The prop to fail thy trust untenderly,
After a troubled day....
Nay, rest you here.
[THE CURTAIN.]
THE LITTLE MAN[54]
By
JOHN GALSWORTHY
"Close by the Greek temples at Paestum there are violets that seem redder, and sweeter, than any ever seen—as though they have sprung up out of the footprints of some old pagan goddess; but under the April sun, in a Devonshire lane, the little blue scentless violets capture every bit as much of the spring." Affection for the West country that was the home of John Galsworthy's ancestors heightens the glamour of this enchanting bit of writing from one of his essays. As he himself has said, the Galsworthys have been in Devonshire as far back as records go—"since the flood of Saxons at all events." He was born, though, at Coombe in Surrey in 1867. From 1881 to 1886, he was at Harrow where he did well at work and games. He was graduated with an honor degree in law from New College, Oxford, in 1889. Following his father's example, he took up the law and was called to the bar (Lincoln's Inn) in 1890. "I read," he says, "in various chambers, practised almost not at all, and disliked my profession thoroughly."