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 God! 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.
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