oftness, and what this
young man, no doubt, would call his social policy. You can't eat
cake and have it! This middle-class sentiment, or socialism, or
whatever it may be, is rotten. Masters are masters, men are men!
Yield one demand, and they will make it six. They are [he smiles
grimly] like Oliver Twist, asking for more. If I were in their
place I should be the same. But I am not in their place. Mark my
words: one fine morning, when you have given way here, and given way
there--you will find you have parted with the ground beneath your
feet, and are deep in the bog of bankruptcy; and with you,
floundering in that bog, will be the very men you have given way to.
I have been accused of being a domineering tyrant, thinking only of
my pride--I am thinking of the future of this country, threatened
with the black waters of confusion, threatened with mob government,
threatened with what I cannot see. If by any conduct of mine I help
to bring this on us, I shall be ashamed to look my fellows in the
face.

[ANTHONY stares before him, at what he cannot see, and there is
perfect stillness. FROST comes in from the hall, and all but
ANTHONY look round at him uneasily.]

FROST. [To his master.] The men are here, sir. [ANTHONY makes a
gesture of dismissal.] Shall I bring them in, sir?

ANTHONY. Wait!

[FROST goes out, ANTHONY turns to face his son.]

I come to the attack that has been made upon me.

[EDGAR, with a gesture of deprecation, remains motionless with
his head a little bowed.]

A woman has died. I am told that her blood is on my hands; I am told
that on my hands is the starvation and the suffering of other women
and of children.

EDGAR. I said "on our hands," sir.

ANTHONY. It is the same. [His voice grows stronger and stronger,
his feeling is more and more made manifest.] I am not aware that if
my adversary suffer in a fair fight not sought by me, it is my fault.
If I fall under his feet--as fall I may--I shall not complain. That
will be my look-out--and this is--his. I cannot separate, as I
would, these men from their women and children. A fair fight is a
fair fight! Let them learn to think before they pick a quarrel!

EDGAR. [In a low voice.] But is it a fair fight, Father? Look at
them, and look at us! They've only this one weapon!

ANTHONY. [Grimly.] And you're weak-kneed enough to teach them how
to use it! It seems the fashion nowadays for m