[The noise ebbs, and more looks round him.]

Chief Student.  Now then, you, sir.

More. [In a quiet voice] Very well.  You are here by the law that governs the action of all mobs—­the law of Force.  By that law, you can do what you like to this body of mine.

A voice.  And we will, too.

More.  I don’t doubt it.  But before that, I’ve a word to say.

A voice.  You’ve always that.

     [Another voice raises a donkey’s braying.]

More.  You—­Mob—­are the most contemptible thing under the sun.  When you walk the street—­God goes in.

Chief Student.  Be careful, you—­sir.

Voices.  Down him!  Down with the beggar!

More. [Above the murmurs] My fine friends, I’m not afraid of you.  You’ve forced your way into my house, and you’ve asked me to speak.  Put up with the truth for once! [His words rush out] You are the thing that pelts the weak; kicks women; howls down free speech.  This to-day, and that to-morrow.  Brain—­you have none.  Spirit—­not the ghost of it!  If you’re not meanness, there’s no such thing.  If you’re not cowardice, there is no cowardice [Above the growing fierceness of the hubbub] Patriotism—­there are two kinds—­that of our soldiers, and this of mine.  You have neither!

Chief Student. [Checking a dangerous rush] Hold on!  Hold on! [To more] Swear to utter no more blasphemy against your country:  Swear it!

Crowd.  Ah!  Ay!  Ah!

More.  My country is not yours.  Mine is that great country which shall never take toll from the weakness of others. [Above the groaning] Ah! you can break my head and my windows; but don’t think that you can break my faith.  You could never break or shake it, if you were a million to one.

     A girl with dark eyes and hair all wild, leaps out from the
     crowd and shakes her fist at him.

Girl.  You’re friends with them that killed my lad! [More smiles down at her, and she swiftly plucks the knife from the belt of a Boy Scout beside her] Smile, you—­cur!

A violent rush and heave from behind flings more forward on to the steel.  He reels, staggers back, and falls down amongst the crowd.  A scream, a sway, a rush, a hubbub of cries.  The chief Student shouts above the riot:  “Steady!” Another:  “My God!  He’s got it!”

Chief Student.  Give him air!

     The crowd falls back, and two students, bending over more, lift
     his arms and head, but they fall like lead.  Desperately they
     test him for life.

Chief Student.  By the Lord, it’s over!