] But is it a fair fight, Father? Look at
them, and look at us! They've only this one weapon!
ANTHONY. [Grimly.] And you're weak-kneed enough to teach them how
to use it! It seems the fashion nowadays for men to take their
enemy's side. I have not learnt that art. Is it my fault that they
quarrelled with their Union too?
EDGAR. There is such a thing as Mercy.
ANTHONY. And justice comes before it.
EDGAR. What seems just to one man, sir, is injustice to another.
ANTHONY. [With suppressed passion.] You accuse me of injustice--of
what amounts to inhumanity--of cruelty?
[EDGAR makes a gesture of horror--a general frightened
movement.]
WANKLIN. Come, come, Chairman.
ANTHONY. [In a grim voice.] These are the words of my own son.
They are the words of a generation that I don't understand; the words
of a soft breed.
[A general murmur. With a violent effort ANTHONY recovers his
control.]
EDGAR. [Quietly.] I said it of myself, too, Father.
[A long look is exchanged between them, and ANTHONY puts out his
hand with a gesture as if to sweep the personalities away; then
places it against his brow, swaying as though from giddiness.
There is a movement towards him.
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