[_He holds up his hand to her and leads her down from the altar and into
the centre of the stage. At whatever moment the actor finds it most
convenient, he repossesses himself of the sonnet that he had placed on
the altar. He now offers it to_ FAME.
This is my sonnet. Is it well done?
[FAME _takes it and reads it in silence, while the_ POET _watches her
rapturously._
FAME: You're a bit of all right.
DE REVES: What?
FAME: Some poet.
DE REVES: I--I--scarcely ... understand.
FAME: You're IT.
DE REVES: But ... it is not possible ... are you she that knew Homer?
FAME: Homer? Lord, yes. Blind old bat, 'e couldn't see a yard.
DE REVES: O Heavens!
[FAME _walks beautifully to the window. She opens it and puts her head
out._
FAME (_in a voice with which a woman in an upper storey would cry for
help if the house was well alight_): Hi! Hi! Boys! Hi! Say, folks! Hi!
[_The murmur of a gathering crowd is heard._ FAME _blows her trumpet._
FAME: Hi, he's a poet! (_Quickly, over her shoulder._) What's your name?
DE REVES: De Reves.
FAME: His name's de Reves.
DE REVES: Harry de Reves.
FAME: His pals call him Harry.
THE CROWD: Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!
FAME: Say, what's your favourite colour?
DE REVES: I ... I ... I don't quite understand.
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