No More Learning

--
My soul, I've done with all you pretty men;
I want to stand in a thing as big as a wind;
And I can only get your paper fans!

_Hamish_.
You've done with me? You wicked Jean! You'll dare
To throw me off like this? After you've made,
O, made my whole heart love you?

_Jean_.
You are no good.
Your friend, now, seems a likely man; but you? --
I thought you were a torch; and you're a squib.

_Hamish_.
Not love you enough? Death, I'll show you then.

_Jean_.
Hands off, Hamish.
There's smoke in you, I know,
And splutter too. Hands off, I say.

_Hamish_.
By God
Tell me to-morrow there's no force in me!

_Jean_.
Leave go, you little beast, you're hurting me:
I never thought you'ld be so strong as this.
Let go, or I'll bite; I mean it. You young fool,
I'm not for you. Take off your hands. O help!
[MORRIS _has come in unseen and rushes forward_.

_Morris_.
You beast! You filthy villainous fellow! --Now,
I hope I've hurt the hellish brain in you.
Take yourself off.