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Cant!

      HARNESS. Well, I've been five years in America. It colours a man's notions.

      SCANTLEBURY. [Suddenly, as though avenging his uncompleted grunt.] Let's have the men in and hear what they've got to say!

      [ANTHONY nods, and UNDERWOOD goes out by the single door.]

      HARNESS. [Drily.] As I'm to have an interview with them this afternoon, gentlemen, I 'll ask you to postpone your final decision till that's over.

      [Again ANTHONY nods, and taking up his glass drinks.] [UNDERWOOD comes in again, followed by ROBERTS, GREEN, BULGIN, THOMAS, ROUS. They file in, hat in hand, and stand silent in a row. ROBERTS is lean, of middle height, with a slight stoop. He has a little rat-gnawn, brown-grey beard, moustaches, high cheek-bones, hollow cheeks, small fiery eyes. He wears an old and grease-stained blue serge suit, and carries an old bowler hat. He stands nearest the Chairman. GREEN, next to him, has a clean, worn face, with a small grey goatee beard and drooping moustaches, iron spectacles, and mild, straightforward eyes. He wears an overcoat, green with age, and a linen collar. Next to him is BULGIN, a tall, strong man, with a dark moustache, and fighting jaw, wearing a red muffler, who keeps changing his cap from one hand to the other. Next to him is THOMAS, an old man with a grey moustache, full beard, and weatherbeaten, bony face, whose overcoat discloses a lean, plucked-looking neck. On his right, ROUS, the youngest of the five, looks like a soldier; he has a glitter in his eyes.]

      UNDERWOOD. [Pointing.] There are some chairs there against the wall, Roberts; won't you draw them up and sit down?

      ROBERTS. Thank you, Mr. Underwood – we'll stand in the presence of the Board. [He speaks in a biting and staccato voice, rolling his r's, pronouncing his a's like an Italian a, and his consonants short and crisp.] How are you, Mr. Harness? Did n't expect t' have the pleasure of seeing you till this afternoon.

      HARNESS. [Steadily.] We shall meet again then, Roberts.

      ROBERTS. Glad to hear that; we shall have some news for you to take to your people.

      ANTHONY. What do the men want?

      ROBERTS. [Acidly.] Beg pardon, I don't quite catch the Chairman's remark.

      TENCH. [From behind the Chairman's chair.] The Chairman wishes to know what the men have to say.

      ROBERTS. It's what the Board has to say we've come to hear. It's for the Board to speak first.

      ANTHONY. The Board has nothing to say.

      ROBERTS. [Looking along the line of men.] In that case we're wasting the Directors' time. We'll be taking our feet off this pretty carpet.

      [He turns, the men move slowly, as though hypnotically influenced.]

      WANKLIN: [Suavely.] Come, Roberts, you did n't give us this long cold journey for the pleasure of saying that.

      THOMAS. [A pure Welshman.] No, sir, an' what I say iss —

      ROBERTS.[Bitingly.] Go on, Henry Thomas, go on. You 're better able to speak to the – Directors than me. [THOMAS is silent.]

      TENCH. The Chairman means, Roberts, that it was the men who asked for the conference, the Board wish to hear what they have to say.

      ROBERTS. Gad! If I was to begin to tell ye all they have to say, I wouldn't be finished to-day. And there'd be some that'd wish they'd never left their London palaces.

      HARNESS. What's your proposition, man? Be reasonable.

      ROBERTS. You want reason Mr. Harness? Take a look round this afternoon before the meeting. [He looks at the men; no sound escapes them.] You'll see some very pretty scenery.

      HARNESS. All right my friend; you won't put me off.

      ROBERTS. [To the men.] We shan't put Mr. Harness off. Have some champagne with your lunch, Mr. Harness; you'll want it, sir.

      HARNESS. Come, get to business, man!

      THOMAS. What we're asking, look you, is just simple justice.

      ROBERTS. [Venomously.] Justice from London? What are you talking about, Henry Thomas? Have you gone silly? [THOMAS is silent.] We know very well what we are – discontented dogs – never satisfied. What did the Chairman tell me up in London? That I did n't know what I was talking about. I was a foolish, uneducated man, that knew nothing of the wants of the men I spoke for.

      EDGAR. Do please keep to the point.

      ANTHONY. [Holding up his hand.] There can only be one master, Roberts.

      ROBERTS. Then, be Gad, it'll be us.

      [There is a silence; ANTHONY and ROBERTS stare at one another.]

      UNDERWOOD. If you've nothing to say to the Directors, Roberts, perhaps you 'll let Green or Thomas speak for the men.

      [GREEN and THOMAS look anxiously at ROBERTS, at each other, and the other men.]

      GREEN. [An Englishman.] If I'd been listened to, gentlemen —

      THOMAS. What I'fe got to say iss what we'fe all got to say —

      ROBERTS. Speak for yourself, Henry Thomas.

      SCANTLEBURY. [With a gesture of deep spiritual discomfort.] Let the poor men call their souls their own!

      ROBERTS. Aye, they shall keep their souls, for it's not much body that you've left them, Mr. [with biting emphasis, as though the word were an offence] Scantlebury! [To the men.] Well, will you speak, or shall I speak for you?

      ROUS. [Suddenly.] Speak out, Roberts, or leave it to others.

      ROBERTS. [Ironically.] Thank you, George Rous. [Addressing himself to ANTHONY.] The Chairman and Board of Directors have honoured us by leaving London and coming all this way to hear what we've got to say; it would not be polite to keep them any longer waiting.

      WILDER. Well, thank God for that!

      ROBERTS. Ye will not dare to thank Him when I have done, Mr. Wilder, for all your piety. May be your God up in London has no time to listen to the working man. I'm told He is a wealthy God; but if he listens to what I tell Him, He will know more than ever He learned in Kensington.

      HARNESS. Come, Roberts, you have your own God. Respect the God of other men.

      ROBERTS. That's right, sir. We have another God down here; I doubt He is rather different to Mr. Wilder's. Ask Henry Thomas; he will tell you whether his God and Mr. Wilder's are the same.

      [THOMAS lifts his hand, and cranes his head as though to prophesy.]

      WANKLIN. For goodness' sake, let 's keep to the point, Roberts.

      ROBERTS. I rather think it is the point, Mr. Wanklin. If you can get the God of Capital to walk through the streets of Labour, and pay attention to what he sees, you're a brighter man than I take you for, for all that you're a Radical.

      ANTHONY. Attend to me, Roberts! [Roberts is silent.] You are here to speak for the men, as I am here to speak for the Board.

      [He looks slowly round.] [WILDER, WANKLIN, and SCANTLEBURY make movements of uneasiness, and EDGAR gazes at the floor. A faint smile comes on HARNESS'S face.]

      Now then, what is it?

      ROBERTS. Right, Sir!

      [Throughout all that follows, he and ANTHONY look fixedly upon each other. Men and Directors show in their various ways suppressed uneasiness, as though listening to words that they themselves would not have spoken.]

      The men can't afford to travel up to London; and they don't trust you to believe what they say in black and white. They know what the post is [he darts a look at UNDERWOOD and TENCH], and what Directors' meetings are: "Refer it to the manager – let the manager advise us on the men's condition. Can we squeeze them a little more?"

      UNDERWOOD. [In a low voice.] Don't hit below the belt, Roberts!

      ROBERTS. Is it below the belt, Mr. Underwood? The men know. When I came up to London, I told you the position straight. An' what came of it? I was told I did n't know what I was talkin' about. I can't afford to travel up to London to be told that again.

      ANTHONY.

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