holy spirit of man--the god within him--is most godlike. It
should make you tremble to think of that--to think that the heavy
burthen and great gift of a poet may be laid upon you.

MARCHBANKS (unimpressed and remorseless, his boyish crudity of
assertion telling sharply against Morell's oratory). It does not
make me tremble. It is the want of it in others that makes me
tremble.

MORELL (redoubling his force of style under the stimulus of his
genuine feelinq and Eugene's obduracy). Then help to kindle it in
them--in ME---not to extinguish it. In the future--when you are
as happy as I am--I will be your true brother in the faith. I
will help you to believe that God has given us a world that
nothing but our own folly keeps from being a paradise. I will
help you to believe that every stroke of your work is sowing
happiness for the great harvest that all--even the humblest--
shall one day reap. And last, but trust me, not least, I will
help you to believe that your wife loves you and is happy in her
home. We need such help, Marchbanks: we need it greatly and
always. There are so many things to make us doubt, if once we let
our understanding be troubled. Even at home, we sit as if in
camp, encompassed by a hostile army of doubts. Will you play the
traitor and let them in on me?

MARCHBANKS (looking round him). Is it like this for her here
always? A woman, with a great soul, craving for reality, truth,
freedom, and being fed on metaphors, sermons, stale perorations,
mere rhetoric. Do you think a woman's soul can live on your
talent for preaching?