bust—damn the hiccoughs! It ’s not every one who’d eat as much as that—hup. I’m not a common man, eh, mate?
Tramp. And ’ow about the Larva?
Parasite. Oh, I’ve gobbled her up too, hup. For what we ’ave received may the—hup.
Tramp. Gah! Bleedin’ Bolshie!
ACT III
THE ANTS
Tramp. It ’s like this ’ere . . . What ’s wrong about
Them insec’s, if yer think it out,
Is, they’ve no feller-feelin’. Each
Jest for ’isself is what they preach.
Chrysalis. Listen to me, listen to me—
The whole world will soon be free!
Tramp. Thinks ’e ’s the world, ’e does . . . My ’at!
These insec’s all be’aves like that—
Ridic’lous creatures! Jest can’t see
’Ow small they looks to you and me . . .
They make me tired. . . . I’d give my clay
(Gospel, I would) to get away.
Man! These ’ere insec’s never dream
Of workin’ to some general scheme.
Chrysalis. The crowning hour approaches. Lo,
The universe begins to glow!
Tramp. (Jumping up)
Gorblimey, if I ’aven’t struck
The truth! Now, there ’s a bit o’ luck.
