King Hunger:—Take the muzzle off the starveling. What's your offense, Starveling?
Old Man (speaking in a broken voice):—Theft.
King Hunger:—How much did you steal?
Old Man:—I stole a five-pound loaf, but it was wrested from me. I had only time to bite a small piece of it. Forgive me, I will never again
King Hunger:—How? Have you acquired an inheritance? Or won't you eat hereafter?
Old Man:—No. It was wrested from me. I only chewed off a small piece
King Hunger:—But how won't you steal? Why haven't you been working?
Old Man:—There's no work.
King Hunger:—But where's your brood, Starveling? Why don't they support you?
Old Man:—My children died of hunger.
King Hunger:—Why did you not starve to death, as they?
Old Man:—I don't know. I had a mind to live.
King Hunger:—Of what use is life to you, Starveling?
(Voices of Spectators.)
—Indeed, how do they live? I don't comprehend it.
—To work.
—To glorify God and be confirmed in the consciousness that life—
—Well, I don't suppose they exalt Him.
—It were better if he were dead.
—A rather wearisome old fellow. And what style of trousers!
—Listen! Listen!
King Hunger (rising, speaks aloud):—Now, ladies and gentlemen, we will feign to meditate. Honorable judges, I beg you to simulate a meditative air.
