Paul Ruttledge. One moment. I have done trying the world I have left. You have accused me of upsetting order by my free drinks, and I have showed you that there is a more dreadful fermentation in the Sermon on the Mount than in my beer-barrels. Christ thought it in the irresponsibility of His omnipotence. [Getting from his bin.] Charlie, give me that cloak. [He flings it back.
Charlie Ward. Aren't you going to punish them anyway?
Paul Ruttledge. No, no, from this out I would punish nobody but myself.
[Some of the Tinkers have gone out.
Charlie Ward. We'd best be off while we can. Come along, Paul, Sibby's gone.
[As they go out Tommy the Song is singing,
Down by the sally garden my love and I did stand,
And on my leaning shoulder she laid her milk-white hand;
She bade me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree,
But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree.
[All go out except Paul Ruttledge.
Paul Ruttledge. Well, good-bye, Thomas; I don't suppose I'll see you again. Use all I have; spend it on your children; I'll never want it. [To the others.] Will you come and join us? We will find rags for you all. Perhaps you will give up that dream that is fading from you, and come among the blind, homeless people; put off the threadbare clothes of the Apostles and run naked for awhile. [Is going out.
Thomas Ruttledge. You have nothing against me, have you, Paul?