(Retreating and holding Religion in front of himself)
Preach me a gospel to this fighting fool,
A pretty gospel of The Prince of Peace,
Religion, you whom I have paid and kept.
RELIGION
(Trying to command himself and speaking hurriedly)
I will, I will—but wait. For I must think—
The Word has not the weight that once it had.
Come, Labor, my good man, what is amiss?
Come, come, no fighting—that is very wrong....
Be meek and humble as the good book says!
LABOR
I loved the good book and its precepts well
In the old days when first my faith in you
Kept me from fighting save at your behest
And for your sake. I listened to you, then.
You were the Light and in your way I walked,
Loving and dreaming; but the dreams are gone
Like your old stature, fervency and power.
Sermons in livery I will not heed,
A flunkey’s stale rebuke I do abhor!
A bought man cannot teach the strong and free—
My soul is pure, and will not brook your touch!
FLIP
His soul? Where is it, I wonder? They always talk about them, but where are they? Two dunderheads and an adlepate trying to make righteousness out of their own inclinations by converse about souls! bah!
SOUL OF MAN