“Orgy-porgy！” said Bernard， interrupting the reading with a loud， unpleasant laugh. “It’s just a Solidarity Service hymn.” He was revenging himself on his two friends for liking one another more than they liked him.
In the course of their next two or three meetings he frequently repeated this little act of vengeance. It was simple and， since both Helmholtz and the Savage were dreadfully pained by the shattering and defilement of a favourite poetic crystal， extremely effective. In the end， Helmholtz threatened to kick him out of the room if he dared to interrupt again. And yet， strangely enough， the next interruption， the most disgraceful of all， came from Helmholtz himself.
The Savage was reading Romeo and Juliet aloud–reading （for all the time he was seeing himself as Romeo and Lenina as Juliet） with an intense and quivering passion. Helmholtz had listened to the scene of the lovers’ first meeting with a puzzled interest. The scene in the orchard had delighted him with its poetry； but the sentiments expressed had made him smile. Getting into such a state about having a girl–it seemed rather ridiculous. But， taken detail by verbal detail， what a superb piece of emotional engineering！ “That old fellow，” he said， “he makes our best propaganda technicians look absolutely silly.” The Savage smiled triumphantly and resumed his reading. All went tolerably well until， in the last scene of the third act， Capulet and Lady Capulet began to bully Juliet to marry Paris. Helmholtz had been restless throughout the entire scene； but when， pathetically mimed by the Savage， Juliet cried out：
“Is there no pity sitting in the clouds， That sees into the bottom of my grief？ O sweet my mother， cast me not away： Delay this marriage for a month， a week； Or， if you do not， make the bridal bed In that dim monument where Tybalt lies…”
When Juliet said this， Helmholtz broke out in an explosion of uncontrollable guffawing.