DAVID.
Stopping before Anathema, horror-stricken.
Death, Nullius, death! You have brought us death. Was I not mute before the face of Death? Did I not wait for it as for a friend? But here you have brought us riches—and I want to dance. I want to dance, yet death clutches at my heart; I want to eat, for hunger has entered my very bones,—but my old stomach refuses to accept any food; I want to laugh, but my face is sobbing, my eyes are weeping, and my soul is crying with mortal fear. Hunger has crept into my bones, and poison is already in my blood—there is no salvation for me; Death has overtaken me.
ANATHEMA.
Significantly.
The poor are waiting for you, David.
DAVID.
What matters it?
ANATHEMA.
The poor are waiting for you, David.