Even if it were thirty, I’ll tell you wh...

Even if it were thirty, I’ll tell you what I think of your justice, you drunken onion! How dare you talk to me as though you were the cracked Isaiah on the church window! When they pulled you out of your mother, it wasn't planned that you'd rap her over the knuckles for pinching a little bowl of corn from somewhere! Aren't you ashamed of yourself when you see how afraid I am of you? But you've let yourself become their servant. So that their houses are not taken away, because they've stolen them. Since when do houses belong to bed-bugs? But you're on the look-out, otherwise they couldn’t drag our men into their wars. You bribe-taker. I've no respect for you. No more than for a thief or a murderer with knife, who does what he wants. You can take the child away from me, a hundred against one, but I tell you one thing: for a profession like yours, they ought to choose only bloodsuckers and men who rape children. As a punishment. To make them sit in judgment over their fellow men, which is worse than swinging from the gallows.

Brecht, Bertolt. John Willet, Ralph Manheim, eds., Collected Plays: Seven. London: Methuen Drama, 1994. pp. 232.