SALVATORE:  Here, don’t you bring us in this!

POLENSKI [half screaming]:  I won’t?  Every one of you is in his class. [Points at FRANKEL.] You sit up here and call yourself a committee, dividin’ up the money and runnin’ this factory that belongs just as much to us men he hired as it does to you!  It belongs to us more—­because we’re the real workin’men! [Beats his chest.] My God!  Don’t the toilers’ wrongs never git avenged?  Are we always goin’ to be wage slaves?  We demand simple justice.  We been workin’ here two dollars and a half a day, now we want the wage scale abolished and double profits for each of us for every day we worked here before we found out what was goin’ on, with you sittin’ up here like kings in your robes, tellin’ the poor man he should have only two dollars and a half a day—­sittin’ up here in your pomp with your feet on the neck of labour! [To CARTER]:  You, in your fine broadcloth, ridin’ up and down the avenues in limousines with never a thought for the toiler!  Don’t think for a minute we deal with this little vampire here.  You’re all in the same boat, and the toiling masses will hold every single one of you just as responsible as it does him, you—­you capitalists!

     [Instantly upon this the door is opened enough to admit the
     heads of two wops very similar to POLENSKI.]

FIRST WOP:  Parasites!

SECOND WOP:  Bloodsuckers!

POLENSKI:  Capitalists, parasites, bloodsuckers, bourgeoisie!  Do you think we expect any justice out of you?  Do you think I come in this room ever dreaming you’d grant our demands?  No!  We knew you!  And if we do assert our rights, what do you do?  You set your hellhounds of police on us!  Haven’t we been agitatin’ for our rights among you for days?  We’ve got our answer from you, but you look out for ours, because as sure as there is a hell waitin’ for all parasites, we’ll send you there, and your factory, too! [Looks up at the clock.] My God, is that clock right? [He runs out at top speed.]

SIMPSON:  They don’t seem to know their place!

SHOMBERG:  Them fellers think they own the earth.

RILEY:  Next, they’ll be thinkin’ they own our factory!

CARTER [solemnly]:  Well, sir, I wonder what this country is coming to!

[Here there is a muffled explosion in the sample piano, which rocks with the jar, at the same time emitting a few curls of smoke.  General exclamations of horror and fright as all of the committee break for shelter.]

SHOMBERG [his voice rising over the others]:  Send for the police!

SALVATORE [shouting]:  Wait!  We ain’t divided up the money!

NORA:  It’s over; it hasn’t done any harm!

FRANKEL [on his hands and knees under the table]:  It was in that piano. [NORA goes across to the piano.] Look out, he’s probably got another one in there.