Tramp. Anything for a piece of meat.
Parasite. That’s what I say. Anything for a piece of meat, and the poor man’s got nothing. It’s against nature. Every one should have enough to eat, eh? Down with work!
Tramp. (Shaking rattle) Poor creature, poor creature!
Parasite. That’s it. Every one’s got a right to live.
[Rattle and chirping in reply.
Mr. Cricket. (Enters, rattling) Here I am, my pet, here I am, my darling. Where are you, my precious? Guess what hubby’s brought you.
Ichneumon Fly. (Behind him) Aha!
Tramp. Look out—look out!
Parasite. Don’t interfere, mate—don’t get mixed up in it. What must be, must be.
Mr. Cricket. Mummy!