MARTIN. By God, you're not.
MATTHEW. Another! Isn't one hell on earth enough for you?
GUY. Patience, patience! I'm trying to explain.
MARTIN. We've no time for patience. We're famishing. And you'll build no other factory. You'll change your tune or you'll lose the one you've got. Building new factories is no use to us. We're not builders. We're weavers.
EPHRAIM. Hold your tongue, Guy. I'll tackle this.
(Guy sits sulkily.)
MATTHEW. We'll hear the old master.
EPHRAIM. Now, my lads, the factory's there, and it's going to stop there.
(Guy takes paper and pencil from his pocket and begins to draw caricatures of the men.)
HENRI. Don't be too sure of it.