Moritz (reads):—
Then think of all our woe and want,
O ye who hear this ditty!
Our struggle vain for daily bread
Hard hearts would move to pity.
But pity's what you've never known,—
You'd take both skin and clothing,
You cannibals, whose cruel deeds
Fill all good men with loathing.
Old Baumert (jumps up, beside himself with excitement):—Both skin and clothing. It's true, it's all true! Here I stand, Robert Baumert, master-weaver of Kasch-*bach. Who can bring up anything against me?. . . I've been an honest, hard-working man all my life long, an' look at me now! What have I to show for it? Look at me! See what they've made of me! Stretched on the rack day after day. (He holds out his arms.) Feel that! Skin and bone! "You villains all, you brood of hell!!" (He sinks down on a chair, weeping with rage and despair.)
Ansorge (flings his basket from him into a corner, rises, his whole body trembling with rage, gasps):—And the time's come now for a change, I say. We'll stand it no longer! We'll stand it no longer! Come what may!
