BISHOP. Martha! . . .

[She turns away from him as from some horror of sin. The BISHOP
stands dumfounded for a moment or two: then he boils over.]

Now I see it all! I've been trapped, I've been tricked! Martha,
this is all your doing! Brought me here on a trumped-up story of
relationship with the Bishop of Benares, to insult me! Oh, what
would that godly man say if he heard of it!--And he shall hear of
it, believe me! Your infamy shall be spread abroad! So this is
your revenge, sir--[he turns to the VICAR]--your revenge for the
contumely with which I have very properly treated you, sir! Now I
understand why I was made to sit down and eat sausages with a
butler--yes, sir, with a butler and a common working-man! Oh! I
could die with shame! You have bereft me of all words! You . . .
You . . . You are no scholar, sir! And your Greek is
contemptible! . . .

[He crosses to AUNTIE.] Martha! You are no sister of mine
henceforward! [Going, he returns to her.] Anathema maranatha!

[He bounces up to the door, but turns back again for a last word
with MANSON.]

And I have one word for you, sir! You are a scoundrel, sir--a
cheat, an impostor! And if I could have my way with you, I would
have you publicly whipped: I would visit you with the utmost rigour
of the law: I would nail you up, sir, for an example!