Balsquith Monologue from Press Cuttings

From Press Cuttings by Bernard Shaw

male · defiant · 53 sec

--And the feeling was that the Labor Party were soulless cads. (MITCHENER: So they are.) And now comes this unmannerly young whelp Chubbs-Jenkinson, the only son of what they call a soda king, and orders a curate to lick his boots. And when the curate punches his head, you first sentence him to be shot; and then make a great show of clemency by commuting it to a flogging. What did you expect the curate to do? MITCHENER (throwing down his pen and his letters and jumping up to confront Balsquith). His duty was perfectly simple. He should have obeyed the order; and then laid his complaint against the officer in proper form. He would have received the fullest satisfaction.

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