alk!

FALK.
Yes!

STIVER.
I hope you've changed your mind at last?

FALK.
Why so?

STIVER.
For obvious reasons. To betray
Communications made in confidence,
Is conduct utterly without defence.
They must not pass the lips.

FALK.
No, I've heard say
It is at times a risky game to play.

STIVER.
The very devil!

FALK.
Only for the great.

STIVER [zealously].
No, no, for all us servants of the state.
Only imagine how my future chances
Would dwindle, if the governor once knew
I keep Pegasus that neighs and prances
In office hours--and such an office, too!
From first to last, you know, in our profession,
The winged horse is viewed with reprobation:
But worst of all would be, if it got wind
That I against our primal law had sinn'd
By bringing secret matters to the light--

FALK.
That's penal, is it--such an oversight?

STIVER [mysteriously].
It can a servant of the state compel
To beg for his dismissal out of hand.
On us officials lies a strict command,
Even by the hearth to be inscrutable.

FALK.
O those despotical authorities,
Muzzling the--clerk that treadeth out the grain!

STIVER [shrugging his shoulders].
It is the law; to murmur is in vain.
Moreover, at a moment such as this,
When salary revision is in train,
It is not well to advertise one's views
Of office time's true function and right use.
That's why I beg you to be silent; look,
A word may forfeit my--

FALK.
Portfolio?

STIVER.
Officially it's called a transcript book;
A protocol's the clasp upon the veil of snow
That shrouds the modest breast of the Bureau.
What lies beneath you must not seek to know.

FALK.
And yet I only spoke at your desire;
You hinted at your literary crop.

STIVER.
How should I guess he'd grovel in the mire
So deep, this parson perch'd on fortune's top,
A man with snug appointments, children, wife,
And money to defy the ills of life?
If such a man prove such a Philistine,
What shall of us poor copyists be said?
Of me, who drive the quill and rule the line,
A man engaged and shortly to be wed,
With family in prospect--and so forth?
[More vehemently.
O, if I only had a well-lined berth,
I'd bind the armour'd helmet on my head,
And cry defiance to united earth!
And were I only unengaged like you,
Trust me, I'd break a road athwart the snow
Of prose, and carry the Ideal through!