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 bumps 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.
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