[ANTHONY stares before him, at what he cannot see, and there is
perfect stillness. FROST comes in from the hall, and all but
ANTHONY look round at him uneasily.]
FROST. [To his master.] The men are here, sir. [ANTHONY makes a
gesture of dismissal.] Shall I bring them in, sir?
ANTHONY. Wait!
[FROST goes out, ANTHONY turns to face his son.]
I come to the attack that has been made upon me.
[EDGAR, with a gesture of deprecation, remains motionless with
his head a little bowed.]
A woman has died. I am told that her blood is on my hands; I am told
that on my hands is the starvation and the suffering of other women
and of children.
EDGAR. I said "on our hands," sir.
ANTHONY. It is the same. [His voice grows stronger and stronger,
his feeling is more and more made manifest.] I am not aware that if
my adversary suffer in a fair fight not sought by me, it is my fault.
If I fall under his feet--as fall I may--I shall not complain. That
will be my look-out--and this is--his. I cannot separate, as I
would, these men from their women and children. A fair fight is a
fair fight! Let them learn to think before they pick a quarrel!
EDGAR. [In a low voice.
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