PROGRESS: A DRAMA OF FAOLmON 



1S9 



Act III 



A Mesozoic Forest. Dinosaurs ami Pkimitive Mammals 



DiPLODOCus. Help, help! — Nay, nay, there's 



naught amiss, 

 I was but dreaming, and did call for h<>lp 

 Forgetting that I was the lord of all creation. 

 For as I dreamed I seemed to lose my flesh 

 And stand stark naked in my giant bones. 

 And then, this horrid semblance of the tiling 



I was 

 Appeared to find a place in some great hall. 

 Appeared to have a label and a name — 

 A name I know not, dedicating my great self 

 To some mammalian biped! 

 The thing's absurd, and yet I am obsessed 

 With vile forebodings, connecting these small 



beasts, 

 These mammals running in and out beneath 



our feet. 



With evil in the days to come. 



Brontosaurus. Since you have said it, I 



will now confess 

 To like forebodings; though that dream of 



yours 

 Looks scarcely forward in the stream of time. 

 But rightly judged tells rather of the past, 

 The recent past when you had dined too well. 



DiPLODOCUS. Can I believe it? Xay I 



dined too ill. 

 For in the marshes where I get my food 

 These frisky vermin have so multiplied 

 That food is lacking. If my dream 

 Has aught to do with food, it can but seem 

 The echo of a scanty meal. 



Brontosaurus. If that is so, I fear 'tis not 



the first. 

 For look you, friend, while one of us is born. 

 Hatched from the egg and grown to full 



maturity. 

 Nature can make a million such as these. 



DiPLODOCUS. A million million vermin, and 



therein 

 Abandon all the painful gains of time! 

 Do we not know that progress in the past. 

 The dorsal nerve cord and the leap on land. 

 The struggle through the ages, meeting each 



demand 

 For better life, has reached its end in us? 



Brontosaurus. I do believe in jn-ogress; 



could I see 

 The hope of greater or of stronger beasts. 

 Of vaster bulk or longer neck or better tail, 

 Of thicker skin or armored coat of mail, 



I might l)e then content to die and fail, 

 If failing made for progress. 



Primitive Mammal. Good masters, we have 



heard your angry talk. 

 Wherein you set it forth that we may lialk 

 The onward march of progress. Pray you 



halt 

 Your cond(>miuition. Can it be our fault 

 That we are small and active, living well 

 The lives we have; should this foretell 

 The downfall of your race? 



Brontosaurus. But look you, little beast, 



your blood is warm. 

 Your skin is hairy, and though small you 



swarm 

 Through glade and forest. 

 In all the past since Cambrian dawn, 

 Through all the changeful weary days, 

 Enduring night for hopeful morn. 

 Was never such a craze. You do upset 

 The whole great scheme of progress, and 



forget 

 The lessons of the elder days. 



Primitive Mammal. Great sir, we see in 



you and yours 

 Creation's finished work. 'Tis not for us 

 To emulate j'our greatness. Yet we would 



try 

 A line of progress all our own, and by and by 

 In ages yet to come evolve a man, 

 A being who with winged thought may span 

 The starry skies, and as in time he dies 

 Soar thither as a soul! 



Bront. and Dip. [Laughing]. A soul! a 

 man! So that's your plan 



For further ])rogress! 



DiPLODOCUS [Addressing Brontosaurus]. Our 



fears were baseless, since they aim 

 At sky and not at earth ; 

 Dreaming of men with winged thoughts 

 And souls to soar above! 



Brontosaurus. Reason failing, knowledge 



spurned. 

 Lessons of the j^ast unlearned, 

 Dreaming, seeking ghosts of dreams, 

 Misty thought which scarcely seems 

 To hold a meaning. 

 What is there here to fright us so. 

 With all our strength, and since we know 

 We are no seeming? 



