Parasite. Bravo! Comrade, just what I was thinking.
Tramp. To die—like that—so young, so ’elpless.
Parasite. Just what I was thinking. I was looking on all the time. I wouldn’t do a thing like that, you know. I wouldn’t really. Every one wants to live, don’t they?
Tramp. Who are you?
Parasite. I, oh nothing much, I’m a poor man, an orphan. They call me a parasite.
Tramp. How can any one dare to kill like that!
Parasite. That’s just what I say. Do you think he needs it? Do you think he’s hungry like me? Not a bit of it. He kills to add to his larder, what’s three-quarters full already. He collects things he does, hangs ’em up to dry, smokes ’em, pickles ’em. It’s a scandal, that’s what it is, a scandal. One’s got a store while another’s starving. Why should he have a dagger, and me only my bare fists to fight with, and all over chilblains too—aren’t I right?
Tramp. I should say so.
Parasite. There’s no equality, that’s what I say. One law for the rich—another for the poor! And if I was to kill anything, I couldn’t eat it—not satisfactorily, I can’t chew properly, my jaw’s too weak. Is that right?
Tramp. I don’t ’old with killin’, no’ow.