MANGAN. She wants both.
LADY UTTERWORD. She won't get them, Mr Mangan. Providence always
has the last word.
MANGAN [desperately]. Now you are going to come religion over me.
In this house a man's mind might as well be a football. I'm
going. [He makes for the hall, but is stopped by a hail from the
Captain, who has just emerged from his pantry].
CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Whither away, Boss Mangan?
MANGAN. To hell out of this house: let that be enough for you and
all here.
CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. You were welcome to come: you are free to go.
The wide earth, the high seas, the spacious skies are waiting for
you outside.
LADY UTTERWORD. But your things, Mr Mangan. Your bag, your comb
and brushes, your pyjamas--
HECTOR [who has just appeared in the port doorway in a handsome
Arab costume]. Why should the escaping slave take his chains with
him?
MANGAN. That's right, Hushabye. Keep the pyjamas, my lady, and
much good may they do you.
HECTOR [advancing to Lady Utterword's left hand]. Let us all go
out into the night and leave everything behind us.
MANGAN. You stay where you are, the lot of you. I want no
company, especially female company.
ELLIE. Let him go. He is unhappy here. He is angry with us.
CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Go, Boss Mangan; and when you have found the
land where there is happiness and where there are no women, send
me its latitude and longitude; and I will join you there.
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