 I can bear it.
    It is a lonely thing to be a champion.

    LYDIA. It is a lonelier thing to be a woman.

    CASHEL. Be lonely then. Shall it be said of thee
    That for his brawn thou misalliance mad'st
    Wi' the Prince of Ruffians? Never. Go thy ways;
    Or, if thou hast nostalgia of the mud,
    Wed some bedogged wretch that on the slot
    Of gilded snobbery, _ventre a terre_,
    Will hunt through life with eager nose on earth
    And hang thee thick with diamonds. I am rich;
    But all my gold was fought for with my hands.

    LYDIA. What dost thou mean by rich?

    CASHEL.                           There is a man,
    Hight Paradise, vaunted unconquerable,
    Hath dared to say he will be glad to hear from me.
    I have replied that none can hear from _me_
    Until a thousand solid pounds be staked.
    His friends have confidently found the money.
    Ere fall of leaf that money shall be mine;
    And then I shall possess ten thousand pounds.
    I had hoped to tempt thee with that monstrous sum.

    LYDIA. Thou silly Cashel, 'tis but a week's income.
    I did propose to give thee three times that
    For pocket money when we two were wed.

    CASHEL. Give me my hat. I have been fooling here.
    Now, by the Hebrew lawgiver, I thought
    That only in America such revenues
    Were decent deemed. Enough. My dream is dreamed.
    Your gold weighs like a mountain on my chest.
    Farewell.

    LYDIA. The golden mountain shall be thine
    The day thou quit'st thy horrible profession.

    CASHEL. Tempt me not, woman. It is honor calls.
    Slave to the Ring I rest until the face
    Of Paradise be changed.

                  _Enter_ BASHVILLE

    BASHVILLE.              Madam, your carriage,
    Ordered by you at two. 'Tis now half-past.

    CASHEL. Sdeath! is it half-past two? The king! the king!

    LYDIA. The king! What mean you?

    CASHEL.                         I must meet a monarch
    This very afternoon at Islington.

    LYDIA. At Islington! You must be mad.

    CASHEL.    