Yet, where men are, I am—yes, even here!
(All look about and show that their attention has been arrested, but no one sees Soul of Man, nor discovers where the voice comes from.)
LABOR
(to Religion)
Strip off that livery and get you gone.
Because of faith that once I felt in you
I cannot strike you now. But, O beware!
For he must meet me face to face alone.
RELIGION
(Struggling to free himself from Capital and escape)
If they would only listen to me, now—
FLIP
But they will not, Blackcoat, no. I can make men behave a few minutes at a time because I amuse them. One would think your derivative graces almost funny enough to serve the same purpose. But men do not want you to be funny. They would have you large and majestic, and to-day you do not seem big enough to enforce attention from any but an audience of corpses. These two, Labor and Capital, are not corpses, but red-blooded men, having given themselves over to the same ha——fair lady, Trade. Unless you can regain your lost stature your day is over, Blackcoat, over. But do your best, for we still need you.