Ye Gods!
MENELAUS [quickly]. I couldn't divorce the Queen. That would set
a bad example.
ANALYTIKOS. Yes, very.
MENELAUS. I couldn't desert her. That would be beneath my honor.
ANALYTIKOS [deeply]. Was there no other way?
MENELAUS [pompously]. The King can do no wrong, and besides I
hate the smell of blood. Are you a prophet as well as a scholar?
Will she go?
ANALYTIKOS. To-night I will read the stars.
MENELAUS [meaningfully]. By to-night I'll not need you to tell
me. [ANALYTIKOS sits deep in thought.] Well?
ANALYTIKOS. Ethics cite no precedent.
MENELAUS. Do you mean to say I'm not justified?
ANALYTIKOS [cogitating]. Who can establish the punctilious ratio
between necessity and desire?
MENELAUS [beginning to fume]. This is no time for language. Just
put yourself in my place.
ANALYTIKOS. Being you, how can I judge as I?
MENELAUS [losing control]. May you choke on your dialectics! Zeus
himself could have stood it no longer.
ANALYTIKOS. Have you given her soul a chance to grow?
MENELAUS. Her soul, indeed! It's shut in her rouge pot. [He has
been strutting about.
Pages:
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116