MARTIN. Yes, that's what that soldier said to you.
(Guy makes a threatening gesture.)
Oh, but he's wrong, of course. You don't suppose Lord Wellington was in the firing line at Waterloo? He left fools like your soldier friend to feed the powder. A leader's business is direction.
GUY. Am I to understand that you direct? You? Martin (quietly). I have directed. In no long time I hope to see the fruits of my direction.
GUY. Down there? (Pointing l.) There'll be a crop of broken heads if that's the fruit you're looking for. Martin. I'm looking up, not down.
GUY. Up?
MARTIN. A sign in the heavens.
GUY (bewildered). The heavens!
MARTIN (passionately). Don't you believe in heaven? Sometimes I don't. I find it difficult to believe in a just God who lets you live and lets your machinery be made and lets you starve your weavers. But I have faith to-night, Guy Barlow, a mighty faith in the all-seeing God who's brought us face to face, oppressor and oppressed, avenger and——-
RUTH (as Martin approaches Guy). Be careful, Guy, he means to do you harm.