[SIR WEBLEY _and_ NEEKS[6] _laugh heartily._

NEEKS: He'd ... He'd have to be a magician for that, wouldn't he?

SIR WEBLEY: Ha, ha! Very good! He'd have to be a magician to do that, Trundleben.

TRUNDLEBEN: Yes, indeed, Sir Webley; indeed he would, Mr. Neeks.

SIR WEBLEY: But that stage direction is priceless. I'd really like to copy that down if you'd let me. What is it? "The sea with a ship"? It's the funniest bit of the lot.

TRUNDLEBEN: Yes, that's it, Sir Webley. Wait a moment, I have it here.

The--the whole thing is "the sea with a ship, afterwards an island."

Very funny indeed.

SIR WEBLEY: "Afterwards an island"! That's very good, too. "Afterwards an island." I'll put that down also. (_He writes._) And what else, Trundleben? What else?

[TRUNDLEBEN _holds out his list again._

TRUNDLEBEN: "The Tragedy of--of King Richard the--the Second."

SIR WEBLEY: But _was_ his life a tragedy? _Was_ it a tragedy, Neeks?

NEEKS: I--I--well I'm not quite sure; I really don't think so. But I'll look it up.

SIR WEBLEY: Yes, we can look it up.

TRUNDLEBEN: I think it was rather--perhaps _rather_ tragic, Sir Webley.

SIR WEBLEY: Oh, I don't say it wasn't. No doubt. No doubt at all. That's one thing. But to call his whole life a tragedy is--is quite another.

What, Neeks?

NEEKS: Oh, quite another.

TRUNDLEBEN: Oh, certainly, Sir Webley. Tragedy is--er--is a very strong term indeed, to--to apply to such a case.

SIR WEBLEY: He was probably out poaching when he should have been learning his history.

TRUNDLEBEN: I'm afraid so, Sir Webley.

SIR WEBLEY: And what else, eh? Anything more?

TRUNDLEBEN: Well, there are some poems, he says.

[_Holds up a list._

SIR WEBLEY: And what are they about?

TRUNDLEBEN: Well, there's one called ... Oh. I'd really rather not mention that one; perhaps that had better be left out altogether.

NEEKS: Not...?

SIR WEBLEY: Not quite...?

TRUNDLEBEN: No, not at all.

SIR WEBLEY and NEEKS: H'm.

TRUNDLEBEN: Left out altogether. And then there are "Sonnets," and--and "Venus and Adonis," and--and "The Phnix and the Turtle."

SIR WEBLEY: The Phnix and the what?

TRUNDLEBEN: The Turtle.

SIR WEBLEY: Oh. Go on ...

TRUNDLEBEN: One called "The Pa.s.sionate Pilgrim," another "A Lover's Complaint."

SIR WEBLEY: I think the whole thing's very regrettable.

NEEKS: I think so too, Sir Webley.

TRUNDLEBEN (_mournfully_): And there've been no poets since poor Browning died, none at all. It's absurd for him to call himself a poet.

NEEKS: Quite so, Trundleben, quite so.

SIR WEBLEY: And all these plays. What does he mean by calling them plays? They've never been acted.

TRUNDLEBEN: Well--er--no, not exactly acted, Sir Webley.

SIR WEBLEY: What do you mean by not exactly, Trundleben?

TRUNDLEBEN: Well, I believe they were acted in America, though of course not in London.

SIR WEBLEY: In America? What's that got to do with it. America? Why, that's the other side of the Atlantic.

TRUNDLEBEN: Oh, yes, Sir Webley, I--I quite agree with you.

SIR WEBLEY: America! I daresay they did. I daresay they did act them.

But that doesn't make him a suitable member for the Olympus. Quite the contrary.

NEEKS: Oh, quite the contrary.

TRUNDLEBEN: Oh, certainly, Sir Webley, certainly.

SIR WEBLEY: I daresay "Macbeth" would be the sort of thing that would appeal to Irish Americans. _Just_ the sort of thing.

TRUNDLEBEN: Very likely, Sir Webley, I'm sure.

SIR WEBLEY: Their game laws are very lax, I believe, over there; they probably took to him on account of his being a poacher.