Drunkard [tears the stick from the Beggar's hand]. We're all the children of the Devil. You've no more on your hide than he has.
Beggar. Don't you start anything. I am a Christian, and believe in God. I've no home. That's why I sleep on the street. Every dog finds his hole. But I won't live together with the Devil. And I won't be the neighbor of a harlot either. Nor was a drunkard ever a friend of mine. [He gathers his belongings.] What are you running after me for? This whole street belongs to the Devil. Why are you trying to stop me?
[He tries to go away.]
Prostitute [detaining him]. Don't leave us. Let him only warm himself. He'll go away.
Beggar. It does me little honor to be with folk like you anyway.
[He goes away.]
Drunkard. Why do you hold him back? Let him go if he thinks us below his dignity.
Prostitute. And do you really think it an honor for one to remain with you? That man is decent at least.
Drunkard. Ah, you grow pious as you grow old.
Prostitute. I have always wanted to be in decent company.