The Lord of the Universe
(Materializing himself fully, a paretic smile upon his lips. He rubs his face and imagines eyes, giving himself sight, and surveys her broodingly.) Have I created thee? Oh, ho, ho, ho! (He rubs his flaming hair.) I must not forget thee! I must not forget thee! Oh, ho, ho! Thou art Beauty! (His expression changes; an unimaginable weariness settles upon his face, aged, æonic. He frowns and leers and partly fades, re-establishing himself after a time. As he does so, AMBITION, a sinister thought, club in hand and darkling and scowling, a figure of terror, leaps from his eyes.)