Touch and Go Part 20

GERALD. I take nothing back, because I gave nothing.

JOB ARTHUR. Oh, excuse me, excuse me, sir. You said it would be all right about the clerks. This lady heard you say it.

GERALD. Don't you call witnesses against me.--Besides, what does it matter to you? What in the name of---

JOB ARTHUR. Well, sir, you said it would be all right, and I went on that---

GERALD. You went on that! Where did you go to?

JOB ARTHUR. The men'll be out on Monday.

GERALD. So shall I.

JOB ARTHUR. Oh, yes, but--where's it going to end?

GERALD. Do you want me to prophesy? When did I set up for a public prophet?

JOB ARTHUR. I don't know, sir. But perhaps you're doing more than you know. There's a funny feeling just now among the men.

GERALD. So I've heard before. Why should I concern myself with their feelings? Am I to cry when every collier b.u.mps his funny-bone--or to laugh?

JOB ARTHUR. It's no laughing matter, you see.

GERALD. An I'm sure it's no crying matter--unless you want to cry, do you see?

JOB ARTHUR. Ah, but, very likely, it wouldn't be me would cry.--You don't know what might happen, now.

GERALD. I'm waiting for something to happen. I should like something to happen--very much--very much indeed.

JOB ARTHUR. Yes, but perhaps you'd be sorry if it did happen.

GERALD. Is that warning or a threat?

JOB ARTHUR. I don't know--it might be a bit of both. What I mean to say---

GERALD (suddenly seizing him by the scruff of the neck and shaking him).

What do you mean to say?--I mean you to say less, do you see?--a great deal less--do you see? You've run on with your saying long enough: that clock had better run down. So stop your sayings--stop your sayings, I tell you--or you'll have them shaken out of you--shaken out of you--shaken out of you, do you see? (Suddenly flings him aside.)

(JOB ARTHUR, staggering, falls.)

ANABEL. Oh, no!--oh, no!

GERALD. Now get up, Job Arthur; and get up wiser than you went down.

You've played your little game and your little tricks and made your little sayings long enough. You're going to stop now. We've had quite enough of strong men of your stamp, Job Arthur--quite enough--such labour leaders as you.

JOB ARTHUR. You'll be sorry, Mr. Barlow--you'll be sorry. You'll wish you'd not attacked me.

GERALD. Don't you trouble about me and my sorrow. Mind your own.

JOB ARTHUR. You will--you'll be sorry. You'll be sorry for what you've done. You'll wish you'd never begun this.

GERALD. Begun--begun?--I'd like to finish, too, that I would. I'd like to finish with you, too--I warn YOU.

JOB ARTHUR. I warn you--I warn you. You won't go on much longer. Every parish has its own vermin.

GERALD. Vermin?

JOB ARTHUR. Every parish has its own vermin; it lies with every parish to destroy its own. We sha'n't have a clean parish till we've destroyed the vermin we've got.

GERALD. Vermin? The fool's raving. Vermin!--Another phrase-maker, by G.o.d! Another phrase-maker to lead the people.--Vermin? What vermin? I know quite well what _I_ mean by vermin, Job Arthur. But what do you mean? Vermin? Explain yourself.

JOB ARTHUR. Yes, vermin. Vermin is what lives on other people's lives, living on their lives and profiting by it. We've got 'em in every parish--vermin, I say--that live on the sweat and blood of the people--live on it, and get rich on it--get rich through living on other people's lives, the lives of the working men--living on the bodies of the working men--that's vermin--if it isn't, what is it? And every parish must destroy its own--every parish must destroy its own vermin.

GERALD. The phrase, my G.o.d! the phrase.

JOB ARTHUR. Phrase or not phrase, there it is, and face it out if you can. There it is--there's not one in every parish--there's more than one--there's a number---

GERALD (suddenly kicking him). Go! (Kicks him.) Go! (Kicks him.) go!

(JOB ARTHUR falls.) Get out! (Kicks him.) Get out, I say! Get out, I tell you! Get out! Get out!--Vermin!--Vermin!--I'll vermin you! I'll put my foot through your phrases. Get up, I say, get up and go--GO!

JOB ARTHUR. It'll be you as'll go, this time.

GERALD. What? What?--By G.o.d! I'll kick you out of this park like a rotten bundle if you don't get up and go.

ANABEL. No, Gerald, no. Don't forget yourself. It's enough now. It's enough now.--Come away. Do come away. Come away--leave him---

JOB ARTHUR (still on the ground). It's your turn to go. It's you as'll go, this time.

GERALD (looking at him). One can't even tread on you.

ANABEL. Don't, Gerald, don't--don't look at him.--Don't say any more, you, Job Arthur.--Come away, Gerald. Come away--come--do come.

GERALD (turning). THAT a human being! My G.o.d!--But he's right--it's I who go. It's we who go, Anabel. He's still there.--My G.o.d! a human being!

(Curtain.)

SCENE II

Market-place as in Act I. WILLIE HOUGHTON, addressing a large crowd of men from the foot of the obelisk.

WILLIE. And now you're out on strike--now you've been out for a week pretty nearly, what further are you? I heard a great deal of talk about what you were going to do. Well, what ARE you going to do? You don't know. You've not the smallest idea. You haven't any idea whatsoever.

You've got your leaders. Now then, Job Arthur, throw a little light on the way in front, will you: for it seems to me we're lost in a bog.