Ned. We sent you to Parliament to obey the Party Whips and be governed by older and wiser heads than yours. Peter. Nelson won battles by disobeying orders. If you didn't want independence you shouldn't have chosen me. Jones. We see that now. You'd ceased to be representative of the Midlandton working classes before we chose you for our candidate. You _were_ a B.A. You're still less able to represent us now when you make as much in a month as your average constituent does in a year. We'll have a better man next time. Peter. Yes. You find an ignorant, dense average specimen of the British workman without a soul above thirty shillings a week, and he'll just about represent the ideas and ambitions of the Midlandton mob. Jones. Yes, he'll represent us better than you. Peter. Then God help representative government! You'd better be careful. My personal popularity's your finest platform asset. Ned. Well, it's an asset we can do without. Put it that you're too brilliant for us. Peter. Oh, it's the old story. Genius and the Philistine. For two pins I'd resign my seat. Ned (_gravely_). We accept your resignation. Peter. What! Jones. We come here to demand it. Peter (_abject_). Comrades, you don't mean this! You wouldn't do a man out of his job. Jones (_curtly_). Oh, we're finding you a new job. Peter. What's that? Jones. The Stewardship of the Chiltern Hundreds. Peter (_slight pause_). I won't resign. You've tried and judged me in my absence. You haven't given me a chance to say a word in my own defence. Ned. You can talk till you're blue in the face without shifting facts. Peter (_growing increasingly hysterical_). The facts are that I'm a Member of the House of Commons for the term of this Parliament, and you can't force me to resign until I do it of my own free will. I'm still M.P. for Midlandton, if I've to sleep on the Embankment. I'll go to the House in rags. I'll be an M.P. still, M.P. for the outcast, the despised, the rejected, the human derelicts, victims of jealousy and injustice and all man's inhumanity to man. Jones (_contemptuously_). You're the victim of nothing but your own swelled head. Peter. I'm the victim of my own great nature. A nature that's cast in too large a mould to submit to pettifogging little rules. My life was the people's. I demanded nothing in return but a free hand and no interference. I've to do this mighty task in my own way. Jones. Yes. The way you found most profitable. Peter. I'm spending every penny I earn. Jones. Yes. I'll believe you for once. This place proves that. We sent you here to be our representative, not to be a bloody * gentleman. I know what your indisposition was that kept you from the House tonight. I saw its skirts when you opened the door. That's what we're paying for. For you to--faugh, you sicken me. * This word must be omitted in representation. It was censored by the Lord Chamberlain about two months before it was passed in Mr. Shaw's "Pygmalion.'