[Pause.]

I think what I have done is of a part
With my conception of the world's great movement.
I will not have one set of lofty thoughts
When I behold high up the circling stars,
And others when a young girl stands before me.
What _there_ is truth, must be so here as well,
And I must say, if yonder wedded child
Cannot endure to harbor in her spirit
Two things, of which the one belies the other,
Am I prepared to make my acts deny
What I have learned through groping premonition
And reason from that monstrous principle
That towers upon the earth and strikes the stars?
I call it Life, that monstrous thing, this too
Is life--and who might venture to divide them?
And what is ripeness, if not recognizing
That men and stars have but one law to guide them?
And so herein I see the hand of fate,
That bids me live as lonely as before,
And heirless--when I speak the last good-by--
And with no loving hand in mine, to die.

SCENE II

A wainscoted room in SHALNASSAR'S house. An ascending stairway, narrow
and steep, in the right background; a descending one at the left. A
gallery of open woodwork with openings, inner balconies, runs about the
entire stage. Unshaded hanging lamps. Curtained doorways to the left
and right. Against the left wall a low bench, farther to the rear a
table and seats. Old SHALNASSAR sits on the bench near the left
doorway, wrapped in a cloak. Before him stands a young man, the
impoverished merchant.

SHALNASS.
Were I as rich as you regard me--truly
I am not so, quite far from that, my friend--
I could not even then grant this postponement,
Nay, really, friend, and solely for your sake:
For too indulgent creditors, by Heaven,
Are debtors' ruin.

DEBTOR.
Hear me now, Shalnassar!

SHALNASS.
No more. I can hear nothing. Yea, my deafness
But grows apace with all your talking. Go!
Go home, I say: think how you may retrench.
I know your house, 'tis overrun with vermin,
I mean the servants. Curtail the expenses
Your wife has caused: they are most unbecoming
For your position. What?