out. [He tries to rise].

ELLIE [pulling him back]. You shall not. You are happy here, aren't you?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. I tell you it's dangerous to keep me. I can't keep
awake and alert.

ELLIE. What do you run away for? To sleep?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. No. To get a glass of rum.

ELLIE [frightfully disillusioned]. Is that it? How disgusting! Do you
like being drunk?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. No: I dread being drunk more than anything in the
world. To be drunk means to have dreams; to go soft; to be easily
pleased and deceived; to fall into the clutches of women. Drink does
that for you when you are young. But when you are old: very very old,
like me, the dreams come by themselves. You don't know how terrible that
is: you are young: you sleep at night only, and sleep soundly. But later
on you will sleep in the afternoon. Later still you will sleep even in
the morning; and you will awake tired, tired of life. You will never be
free from dozing and dreams; the dreams will steal upon your work every
ten minutes unless you can awaken yourself with rum. I drink now to keep
sober; but the dreams are conquering: rum is not what it was: I have
had ten glasses since you came; and it might be so much water. Go get me
another: Guinness knows where it is. You had better see for yourself the
horror of an old man drinking.

ELLIE. You shall not drink. Dream. I like you to dream. You must never
be in the real world when we talk together.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. I am too weary to resist, or too weak. I am in my
second childhood. I do not see you as you really are. I can't remember
what I really am. I feel nothing but the accursed happiness I have
dreaded all my life long: the happiness that comes as life goes, the
happiness of yielding and dreaming instead of resisting and doing, the
sweetness of the fruit that is going rotten.

ELLIE. You dread it almost as much as I used to dread losing my dreams
and having to fight and do things. But that is all over for me: my
dreams are dashed to pieces. I should like to marry a very old, very
rich man. I should like to marry you. I had much rather marry you than
marry Mangan. Are you very rich?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. No. Living from hand to mouth. And I have a wife
somewhere in Jamaica: a black one. My first wife. Unless she's dead.

ELLIE. What a pity! I feel so happy with you. [She takes his hand,
almost unconsciously, and pats it]. I thought I should never feel happy
again.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Why?