THE BLUE DWARF. 
I07 
JOHN 
 
The upshot ? 
 
ISSA 
 
I am sick of everything. 
 
JOHN 
 
Of me, Lord ? 
 
ISSA 
 
Thou the least, sweet queen and king.  
But — finally — in sooth, lad — even of thee. 
 
JOHN 
 
Lord, have I failed in love ? 
 
ISSA 
 
Failure must be. 
Not by thy fault, but fixed in every feature  
Of Mistress Smirking Whore, our Mother Nature,  
Whose filthy dugs our poisoned kisses suck.  
Pah !  the whole world is just a mass of muck. 
 
JOHN 
 
Wait, master !  that’s a Phrase.