PRESS. [Who has slipped his note-book out] "Bombed and Bomber face to face----"
LEMMY. [Uneasy] I didn't come 'ere agyne on me own, yer know. The Press betryed me.
LORD W. Is that old lady your mother?
LEMMY. The syme. I tell yer stryte, it was for 'er I took that old bottle o' port. It was orful old.
LORD W. Ah! Port? Probably the '83. Hope you both enjoyed it.
LEMMY. So far-yus. Muvver'll suffer a bit tomower, I expect.
LORD W. I should like to do something for your mother, if you'll allow me.
LEMMY. Oh! I'll allow yer. But I dunno wot she'll sy.
LORD W. I can see she's a fine independent old lady! But suppose you were to pay her ten bob a week, and keep my name out of it?
LEMMY. Well, that's one wy o' YOU doin' somefink, 'yn't it?
LORD W. I giving you the money, of course.
PRESS. [Writing] "Lord William, with kingly generosity----"
LEMMY. [Drawing attention to THE PRESS with his thumb] I sy--I daon't mind, meself--if you daon't----
LORD W. He won't write anything to annoy me.
PRESS. This is the big thing, Lord William; it'll get the public bang in the throat.
LEMMY. [Confidentially] Bit dyngerous, 'yn't it? trustin' the Press? Their right 'ands never knows wot their left 'ands is writin'. [To THE PRESS] 'Yn't that true, speakin' as a man?
PRESS. Mr. Lemmy, even the Press is capable of gratitude.
LEMMY. Is it? I should ha' thought it was too important for a little thing like that. [To LORD WILLIAM] But ye're quite right; we couldn't do wivaht the Press--there wouldn't be no distress, no coffin, no revolution--'cos nobody'd know nuffin' abaht it. Why!
There wouldn't be no life at all on Earf in these dyes, wivaht the Press! It's them wot says: "Let there be Light--an' there is Light."
LORD W. Umm! That's rather a new thought to me. [Writes on his cuff.]
LEMMY. But abaht Muvver, I'll tell yer 'ow we can arrynge. You send 'er the ten bob a week wivaht syin' anyfink, an' she'll fink it comes from Gawd or the Gover'ment yer cawn't tell one from t'other in Befnal Green.
LORD W. All right; we'll' do that.
LEMMY. Will yer reely? I'd like to shyke yer 'and.
[LORD WILLIAM puts out his hand, which LEMMY grasps.]
PRESS. [Writing] "The heartbeat of humanity was in that grasp between the son of toil and the son of leisure."
LEMMY. [Already ashamed of his emotion] 'Ere, 'arf a mo'! Which is which? Daon't forget I'm aht o' wori; Lord William, if that's 'is nyme, is workin 'ard at 'is Anti-Sweats! Wish I could get a job like vat--jist suit me!
LORD W. That hits hard, Mr. Lemmy.
LEMMY. Daon't worry! Yer cawn't 'elp bein' born in the purple!
LORD W. Ah! Tell me, what would you do in my place?
LEMMY. Why--as the nobleman said in 'is well-known wy: "Sit in me Club winder an' watch it ryne on the dam people!" That's if I was a average nobleman! If I was a bit more noble, I might be tempted to come the kind'earted on twenty thou' a year. Some prefers yachts, or ryce 'orses. But philanthropy on the 'ole is syfer, in these dyes.
LORD W. So you think one takes to it as a sort of insurance, Mr. Lemmy? Is that quite fair?
LEMMY. Well, we've all got a weakness towards bein' kind, somewhere abaht us. But the moment wealf comes in, we 'yn't wot I call single-'earted. If yer went into the foundytions of your wealf--would yer feel like 'avin' any? It all comes from uvver people's 'ard, unpleasant lybour--it's all built on Muvver as yer might sy. An' if yer daon't get rid o' some of it in bein' kind--yer daon't feel syfe nor comfy.
LORD W. [Twisting his moustache) Your philosophy is very pessimistic.
LEMMY. Well, I calls meself an optimist; I sees the worst of everyfink. Never disappynted, can afford to 'ave me smile under the blackest sky. When deaf is squeezin' of me windpipe, I shall 'ave a laugh in it! Fact is, if yer've 'ad to do wiv gas an' water pipes, yer can fyce anyfing. [The distant Marseillaise blares up] 'Ark at the revolution!
LORD W. [Rather desperately] I know--hunger and all the rest of it!
And here am I, a rich man, and don't know what the deuce to do.
LEMMY. Well, I'll tell yer. Throw yer cellars open, an' while the populyce is gettin' drunk, sell all yer 'ave an' go an' live in Ireland; they've got the millennium chronic over there.
[LORD WILLIAM utters a short, vexed laugh, and begins to walk about.]
That's speakin' as a practical man. Speakin' as a synt "Bruvvers, all I 'ave is yours. To-morrer I'm goin' dahn to the Lybour Exchynge to git put on the wytin' list, syme as you!"
LORD W. But, d--- it, man, there we should be, all together! Would that help?
LEMMY. Nao; but it'd syve a lot o' blood.
[LORD WILLIAM stops abruptly, and looks first at LEMMY, then at the cooler, still cohered with the Chinese mat.]
Yer thought the Englishman could be taught to shed blood wiv syfety.
Not 'im! Once yer git 'im into an 'abit, yer cawn't git 'im out of it agyne. 'E'll go on sheddin' blood mechanical--Conservative by nyture. An' 'e won't myke nuffin' o' yours. Not even the Press wiv 'is 'oneyed words'll sty 'is 'and.
LORD W. And what do you suggest we could have done, to avoid trouble?
LEMMY. [Warming to his theme] I'll tell yer. If all you wealfy nobs wiv kepitel 'ad come it kind from the start after the war yer'd never 'a been 'earin' the Marseillaisy naow. Lord! 'Ow you did talk abaht Unity and a noo spirit in the Country. Noo spirit! Why, soon as ever there was no dynger from outside, yer stawted to myke it inside, wiv an iron'and. Naow, you've been in the war an' it's given yer a feelin' 'eart; but most of the nobs wiv kepitel was too old or too important to fight. They weren't born agyne. So naow that bad times is come, we're 'owlin' for their blood.
LORD W. I quite agree; I quite agree. I've often said much the same thing.
LEMMY. Voice cryin' in the wilderness--I daon't sy we was yngels--there was faults on bofe sides. [He looks at THE PRESS] The Press could ha' helped yer a lot. Shall I tell yer wot the Press did?
"It's vital," said the Press, "that the country should be united, or it will never recover." Nao strikes, nao 'omen nature, nao nuffink.
