rk, only a few oil lamps burning.

The SCENE OPENS, revealing the interior of the Guildhall, and
the brilliant assembly of City magnates, Lords, and Ministers
seated there, Mr. PITT occupying a chair of honour by the Lord
Mayor. His health has been proposed as that of the Saviour of
England, and drunk with acclamations.]

PITT [standing up after repeated calls]

My lords and gentlemen:--You have toasted me
As one who has saved England and her cause.
I thank you, gentlemen, unfeignedly.
But--no man has saved England, let me say:
England has saved herself, by her exertions:
She will, I trust, save Europe by her example!

[Loud applause, during which he sits down, rises, and sits down
again. The scene then shuts, and the night without has place.]

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Those words of this man Pitt--his last large words,
As I may prophesy--that ring to-night
In their first mintage to the feasters here,
Will spread with ageing, lodge, and crystallize,
And stand embedded in the English tongue
Till it grow thin, outworn, and cease to be.--
So is't ordained by That Which all ordains;
For words were never winged with apter grace.
Or blent with happier choice of time and place,
To hold the imagination of this strenuous race.

SCENE VI[10]

AN INN AT RENNES

[Night. A sleeping-chamber. Two candles are burning near a bed
in an alcove, and writing-materials are on the table.

The French admiral, VILLENEUVE, partly undressed, is pacing up
and down the room.]

VILLENEUVE

These hauntings have at last nigh proved to me
That this thing must be done. Illustrious foe
And teacher, Nelson: blest and over blest
In thy outgoing at the noon of strife
When glory clasped thee round; while wayward Death
Refused my coaxings for the like-timed call!
Yet I did press where thickest missiles fell,
And both by precept and example showed
Where lay the line of duty, patriotism,
And honour, in that combat of despair.

[He see himself in the glass as he passes.]

Unfortunate Villeneuve!--whom fate has marked
To suffer for too firm a faithfulness.--
An Emperor's chide is a command to die.--
By him accursed, forsaken by my friend,
Awhile stern England's prisoner, then unloosed
Like some poor dolt unworth captivity,
Time serves me now for ceasing. W