Porter.
Good, sir.
Falk.
Pray,
Make haste and burn it.
Porter.
Burn it?
Falk.
Yes, to ash—
[Smiling.
With every draft upon poetic cash;
As for the books, you're welcome to them.
Porter.
Nay,
Such payment is above a poor man's earning.
But, sir, I'm thinking, if you can bestow
Your books, you must have done with all your learning?
Falk.
Whatever can be learnt from books I know,
And rather more.
Porter.
More? Nay, that's hard, I doubt!
Falk.
Well, now be off; the carriers wait without.
Just help them load the barrow ere you go.
[The Porter goes out to the left.
