MATTHEW. We'll not be ended easy.
GUY. We want you in the factories. The factories are hungering for the right men.
MATTHEW. And men are hungry because of the factories. Don't tell me my cloth won't sell. It's cloth that sells itself.
EPHRAIM. Don't you believe me, Matt?
MATTHEW. I don't believe you know what my cloth's like. Do you see it yourself up yonder?
EPHRAIM. Well—no.
MATTHEW (going to door). Then come in here and I'll show you. You'll not be telling me then there are no decent housewives left to buy a cloth like mine. (Exit.)
GUY (to Ephraim, who is following). Oh, what's the good of wasting time on him?
EPHRAIM. Best humour him, Guy. Don't come. I'll get him round.
GUY. Psh! You're too soft with the old fool.