"The case of the robber
Defending the robber,"
The other retorts.

"Now, pray!" bellows Klimka,
And leaping upon him,
He punches his jaw.
The trader repays him
With buffets as hearty,
"Take leave of your carcase!" 300
He roars.

"Here's a tussle!"
The peasants are clearing
A space for the battle;
They do not prevent it
Nor do they applaud it.
The blows fall like hail.

"I'll kill you, I'll kill you!
Write home to your parents!"

"I'll kill you, I'll kill you! 310
Heh, send for the pope!"

The trader, bent double
By Klimka, who, clutching
His hair, drags his head down,
Repeating, "He's bowing!"
Cries, "Stop, that's enough!"