Ned (gravely). We accept your resignation.
Peter. What!
Jones. We come here to demand it.
Peter (abject). Comrades, you don't mean this! You wouldn't do a man out of his job.
Jones (curtly). Oh, we're finding you a new job.
Peter. What's that?
Jones. The Stewardship of the Chiltern Hundreds.
Peter (slight pause). I won't resign. You've tried and judged me in my absence. You haven't given me a chance to say a word in my own defence.
Ned. You can talk till you're blue in the face without shifting facts.
Peter (growing increasingly hysterical). The facts are that I'm a Member of the House of Commons for the term of this Parliament, and you can't force me to resign until I do it of my own free will. I'm still M.P. for Midlandton, if I've to sleep on the Embankment. I'll go to the House in rags. I'll be an M.P. still, M.P. for the outcast, the despised, the rejected, the human derelicts, victims of jealousy and injustice and all man's inhumanity to man.