MICUS If all those who made money built houses for the poor an' gave employment, there 'ud soon be no poor at all.
PADNA You're talkin' what's called socialism now, an' that's too delicate a plant, like Christianity, to thrive in a planet like this. So I heard one o' them preacher chaps sayin' the other evenin'.
MICUS Well, be all accounts, we're no better off than those who heard St. Peter himself preachin'. The poor still only get the promise of Heaven from the clergy.
PADNA
That's all they'll ever get.
MICUS
The world must surely be lost, Padna.
PADNA
Nothin' surer!
MICUS If God ever goes rummagin' among the stars an' finds it again, there'll be bad work, I'm thinkin'.
PADNA
I wonder will it be a great fire or another flood?
MICUS
Tis hard to tell!
[A loud knocking is heard at the door.