PEHR. [Frightened.] What a harsh gentleman! I shall have to submit,
although I'm beastly hungry--But, wait! Is there nothing that will
move that gentleman? I have heard that gold--[Goes over to chest
and takes out a handful of gold coins.] Would not--

BUTLER. Your Grace! I stand above the servants; above me stands
Your Grace, but above us all stands--Conventionality. Its laws are
perpetual, for they have their foundation both in common sense and
in what we call historical hypotheses.

PEHR. And the historical hypotheses--cannot they be reached with
gold?

BUTLER. They are non-corruptible--in this instance!

PEHR. What's the good of all my wealth if I cannot eat my fill when
I'm hungry? I am worse off than the poorest bellringer.

[Butler stations himself at the table, and stands like a statue.]

[Enter Tax Assessor and assistants, who walk about and take an
inventory.]

PEHR. Look--here's a new torture! With what shall you gentlemen
pester an innocent victim?

TAX ASSESSOR. Taxation, Your Grace.

PEHR. Indeed! So it is you who regulate people's worth. How high is