ly very sorry it all
happened--very sorry indeed.

SIR WEBLEY: Very well, Trundleben, we'll see what's to be done. If
nothing's known of him and his plays, you'll have to write and request
him to withdraw his candidature. But we'll see. We'll see.

TRUNDLEBEN: Thank you, Sir Webley. I'm sure I'm very sorry it all
occurred. Thank you, Mr. Neeks.

[_Exit_ TRUNDLEBEN, _waddling slowly away._

SIR WEBLEY: Well, Neeks, that's what it will have to be. If nothing
whatever's known of him we can't have him putting up for the Olympus.

NEEKS: Quite so, Sir Webley. I'll call Mr. Gleek's attention.

[_He begins to rise, hopefully looking Gleek-wards, when_ JERGINS _comes
between him and_ MR. GLEEK. _He has come to take away the coffee._

SIR WEBLEY: Times are changing, Jergins.

JERGINS: I'm afraid so, Sir Webley.

SIR WEBLEY: Changing fast, and new members putting up for the Club.

JERGINS: Yes, I'm afraid so, Sir Webley.

SIR WEBLEY: You notice it too, Jergins.

JERGINS: Yes, Sir Webley, it's come all of a sudden. Only last week I
saw ...

SIR WEBLEY: Well, Jergins.

JERGINS: I saw Lord Pondleburrow wearing a ...

SIR WEBLEY: Wearing what, Jergins?

JERGINS: Wearing one of those billycock hats, Sir Webley.

SIR WEBLEY: Well, well. I suppose they've got to change, but not at that
rate.

JERGINS: No, Sir Webley.

[EXIT, _shaking his head as he goes._

SIR WEBLEY: Well, we must find out about this fellow.

NEEKS: Yes. I'll call Mr. Gleek's attention. He knows all about that
sort of thing.

SIR WEBLEY: Yes, yes. Just ...

[NEEKS _rises and goes some of the way towards_ GLEEK'S _chair._

NEEKS: Er--er----

GLEEK (_looking round_): Yes?

SIR WEBLEY: Do you know anything of a man called Mr. William
Shakespeare?

GLEEK (_looking over his pince-nez_): No!

[_He shakes his head several times and returns to his paper._

CURTAIN.

FAME AND THE POET

_DRAMATIS PERSONAE_

HARRY DE REVES, _a Poet_.

(_This name, though of course of French origin, has
become anglicised and is pronounced_ DE REEVS.)

DICK PRATTLE, _a Lieutenant-Major of the Royal Horse
Marines_.

FAME.

SCENE

_The Poet's rooms in London. Windows in back. A high screen in a
corner._

_Time: February 30th._

_The_ POET _is sitting at a table writing._

[_Enter_ DICK PRATTLE.

PRATTLE: Hullo, Harry.

DE REVES: Hullo, Dick. Good Lord, where are you from?

PRATTLE (_casually_): The ends of the earth.

DE REVE