Indeed, Sir, we have no right to lessen wantonly the amount of human
enjoyment!

C. Wal. In heaven's name, what would you have her do, while the
people were eating grass?

C. Hugo. Nobody asked them to eat it; nobody asked them to be there
to eat it; if they will breed like rabbits, let them feed like
rabbits, say I--I never married till I could keep a wife.

Abbot. Ah, Count Walter! How sad to see a man of your sense so led
away by his feelings! Had but this dispensation been left to work
itself out, and evolve the blessing implicit in all heaven's
chastenings! Had but the stern benevolences of providence remained
undisturbed by her ladyship's carnal tenderness--what a boon had
this famine been!

C. Wal. How then, man?

Abbot. How many a poor soul would be lying--Ah, blessed thought!--
in Abraham's bosom; who must now toil on still in this vale of
tears!--Pardon this pathetic dew--I cannot but feel as a Churchman.

3d Count. Look at it in this way, Sir. There are too many of us--
too many--Where you have one job you have three workmen. Why, I
threw three hundred acres into pasture myself this year--it saves
money, and risk, and trouble, and tithes.

C. Wal. What would you say to the Princess, who talks of breaking
up all her parks to wheat next year?