[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.] 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. He moves them back.]