n. Do you love the Japanese? Do you love the Germans? Do
you love the English?

CUSINS. No. Every true Englishman detests the English. We are the
wickedest nation on earth; and our success is a moral horror.

UNDERSHAFT. That is what comes of your gospel of love, is it?

CUSINS. May I not love even my father-in-law?

UNDERSHAFT. Who wants your love, man? By what right do you take
the liberty of offering it to me? I will have your due heed and
respect, or I will kill you. But your love! Damn your impertinence!

CUSINS [grinning] I may not be able to control my affections, Mac.

UNDERSHAFT. You are fencing, Euripides. You are weakening: your
grip is slipping. Come! try your last weapon. Pity and love have
broken in your hand: forgiveness is still left.

CUSINS. No: forgiveness is a beggar's refuge. I am with you
there: we must pay our debts.

UNDERSHAFT. Well said. Come! you will suit me. Remember the words
of Plato.

CUSINS [starting] Plato! You dare quote Plato to me!

UNDERSHAFT. Plato says, my friend, that society cannot be saved
until either the Professors of Greek take to making gunpowder, or
else the makers of gunpowder become Professors of Greek.

CUSINS. Oh, tempter, cunning tempter!

UNDERSHAFT. Come! choose, man, choose.

CUSINS. But perhaps Barbara will not marry me if I make the wrong
choice.

BARBARA. Perhaps not.

CUSINS [desperately perplexed] You hear--

BARBARA. Father: do you love nobody?

UNDERSHAFT. I love my best friend.

LADY BRITOMART. And who is that, pray?

UNDERSHAFT. My bravest enemy. That is the man who keeps me up to
the mark.

CUSINS. You know, the creature is really a sort of poet in his
way. Suppose he is a great man, after all!

UNDERSHAFT. Suppose you stop talking and make up your mind, my
young friend.

CUSINS. But you are driving me against my nature. I hate war.

UNDERSHAFT. Hatred is the coward's revenge for being intimidated.
Dare you make war on war? Here are the means: my friend Mr Lomax
is sitting on them.

LOMAX [springing up] Oh I say! You don't mean that this thing is
loaded, do you? My ownest: come off it.

SARAH [sitting placidly on the shell] If I am to be blown up, the
more thoroughly it is done the better. Don't fuss, Cholly.

LOMAX [to Undershaft, strongly remonstrant] Your own daughter,
you know.

UNDERSHAFT. So I see. [To Cusins] Well, my friend, may we expect
you here at six tomorrow morning?

CUSINS [firmly] Not on any account.