itch remain engraved on your tongues, walls and skin--forever.
But hold, Masters! I have it!
To purge, ennoble, entertain?
Obviously! Placed so far below you, I cannot approach your discernment.
Oh Masters! To attribute my perspective to you!
Forgive my impudent rashness!
For how can you see dregs, froth and scum where I do?
You have merely to see dregs, and you prosecute.
Froth, and you judge.
Scum, and you execute.
Oh, Masters! Your generosity is truly unbounded!
You grant a reprieve on such easy conditions!
To purge you, ennoble, entertain you,
I have merely to parade the dregs, froth and scum
And let you prosecute, judge, and execute.
What occupation can compete with the prosecutor's a soul-laxative, to purge--
What faster than a judge's bench can elevate a common conscience, ennoble it--
What greater joy than the executioner's--what entertainment?
I have merely to prepare the surroundings.
The steel beams. The marble walls.
The security you crave in the court.
And in the center, a rose.
SCENE: INDIA
(Front of Indian hut: a pottery. Enter Krishna Moksa, 20 years old, shaping a clay bowl with his hands.)
Here, oh mighty prosecutor, is a dreg in far-off India.
You'll quickly recognize the nature of his crime.
