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.
GERALD. The phrase, my God! 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—-