(_smiling_). No, you will have to deal with your own worries.

(_Exit LANCASTER. RICHARD moves to the window and stands there looking out, kicking disconsolately in a childish fashion with his toe. After a moment, ROBERT DE VERE comes in looking for him._)

DE VERE. (_crossing to him_). Dinner, Richard.

RICHARD. I don’t want dinner.

DE VERE. You will when you see it.

RICHARD. (_in a burst_). It is all coming to pieces, Robert! They won’t try to understand, and Parliament will think as they do. It is going to fail.

DE VERE. (_putting his arm across RICHARD’S shoulder in casual friendliness_). Cheer up, Richard! It may fail this time. You can’t expect them to absorb anything as repulsive as a new idea without some coaxing. But we are young, thank God; we have all our lives in front of us. We keep on coaxing, and presently they swallow the dose.

RICHARD. But you would think that we were trying to do something that would harm them, instead of something that would be to everyone’s advantage!

DE VERE. Everyone’s advantage is nobody’s business. You should know that. Even we are not entirely guiltless of self-seeking.

RICHARD. What do you mean?

DE VERE. Analyse our noble desire for peace and it becomes strangely like a rather low desire for a quiet life.

RICHARD. How can you laugh, Robert?

DE VERE. How can I? A little natural aptitude, and some perseverance. Gloucester helps. Gloucester is very funny.

RICHARD. Gloucester! Funny! You know you don’t mean that.

DE VERE. But I do mean it. Gloucester being righteous must make even the gods laugh.

RICHARD. Oh, Robert, I wish I had your Olympian view.