A crowd of little chickens,—which you want!
And I’ve the hen’s high spirit and her pluck,
And for my little ones forget myself.
You think me dull, I know it. Possibly
You pass a harsher judgment yet, decree
Me over covetous of worldly pelf.
Good, on that head we will not disagree.
[Seizes Falk’s arm and continues in a low tone but with gathering vehemence.
You’re right, I’m dull and dense and grasping, yes;
But grasping for my God-given babes and wife,