...
FIRST OLD WEAVER
Come, come now, that's enough!
BECKER
You let him do his little bit o' preaching. There's many a one would be
the better for takin' it to heart.
VOICES
[_In excited confusion._] "Let him alone!" "Let him speak!"
THIRD OLD WEAVER
[_Raising his voice._] But hell is opened, saith the Lord; its jaws are
gaping wide, to swallow up all those that oppress the afflicted and
pervert judgement in the cause of the poor. [_Wild excitement._]
THIRD OLD WEAVER
[_Suddenly declaiming schoolboy fashion._]
When one has thought upon it well,
It's still more difficult to tell
Why they the linen-weaver's work despise.
BECKER
But we're fustian-weavers, man.
[_Laughter._
HORNIG
The linen-weavers is ever so much worse off than you. They're wanderin'
about among the hills like ghosts. You people here have still got the
pluck left in you to kick up a row.
WITTIG
Do you suppose the worst's over here? It won't be long till the
manufacturers drain away that little bit of strength they still has left
in their bodies.
BECKER
You know what he said: It will come to the weavers workin' for a bite of
bread.
[_Uproar.
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