Vis. And when is it decided?
Phil. To-morrow afternoon.
Chas. (slapping Phillip) And this is the man whose going to win.
Phil. No, No I consider what numbers there are.
Chas. Oh! ? We know you.
Phil. Well, I've a pretty good chance.
- Enter Franz
Franz, Well it's time I was at Quentin's–where the devil drives–but one can't help loving him in spite of his fancies.
Chas. What ho! Sir Student, where go you.
Franz. To my hermitage–to heaven–to bed.
Phil. Nonsense! come and drink with us.
Franz. I drink enough with my ears without filling my mouth
Chas. Thou art currish. Franz. It were better for me to gnaw a miser's bones than play with thy tongue; for no bone is as clean picked of meat as thy speech of wit. I'll to my kennel, get you to your thistles.
The Rest Do not spoil start.
Franz. I see none in swilling at other people's expense, or in playing shoeblack to possible success, nor in dreaming of it and getting puffed up with anticipation, nor yet in wandering about in gay clothes and mocking simple men in their cups. So, the fiend's blessing be with you as safely as his claws are on you, and goodnight.
Vis. A saucy fellow.
Chas. Oh! a very scurvy knave.
Phil. He respects nothing and no one except that crack brain, Quentin Massys, Come, let us drink, (they go up)
SCENE II.
An ill furnished Room–Lamp low–Books, Tools, &c. strewed about Clinking and Light shining from the next Room–Music.
Franz. Hark! there he hammers: so for many a night
That ghostly tolling has broke the dark air
With muffled dirge. 'Tis hopeless, hopeless!
But I'll rouse him. Quentin! Quentin!
He hears me not; bent close in ectasy
Above the hissing iron: Quentin Massys (approaching)
Toiler of night come forth (pause)
Why linger you.
(The hammer sounds grow quicker and then ceases)
Quen. Finished! finished! finished! (Falls, Franz catches him)
Franz. Why Quentin, what is this; come, taste this brandy. O God! he's killed himself.
Quen. Not yet! not yet!
