Peter. I serve the cause in my own way. (He is consciously on his defence now.) It's a better way than listening to dry-as-dust debates and tramping endless miles through the division lobbies. I'm getting at the people. I'm carrying the fiery sword of revolutionary Socialism through the length and breadth of the land. I'm the harbinger of the new age. Wherever I go I leave behind me an awakened people, stirred from their lethargy and indolent acceptance of things as they are, fired with new hopes of the coming dispensation, eager to throw off the yoke and strike their blow for freedom, justice, and the social revolution. That's my work, comrades, not wasting my energy, my gift of oratory on the canting hypocrites at Westminster, but keeping them fresh for the honest man outside. I'm going to quarter England, town by town, until——
Ned (rising, and putting his hand on Peter's arm, shaking his head). It won't do, Garsidc.
Jones. You needn't wag that silver tongue at us. You're found out.
Peter. Found out! You can't find out a man you're incapable of understanding. You can't drive genius with a bearing rein. I'm a man of genius, and you're angry because I can't be a cog in the parliamentary machine.
Ned (quietly). Whatever you are, you're paid to be a cog.
Peter. If I'm to do my great work for the cause I must live somehow. The labourer is worthy of his hire.
Jones. You're hired twice over. You get lecture fees when you ought to be in the House. You make local secretaries compete for your lectures to force your price up. You've got swelled head till you think you can do as you like.
Peter. I won't be dictated to by you.
Ned. And yet we're your masters, you know.
Peter. It's my nature to be a free lance. Routine would kill me. I've to work for the cause in my own way.