The Harvesters

D O L I V A L.

But, ultimately, when one is bored...
My dear uncle, do you have company?

C A N D O R, pointing to his harvesters.

My friend, there it is.

D O L I V A L.

But, but in truth,
That makes for good company!

C A N D O R.

Yes, very good, and I hold them in high regard.
We owe our lives to the efforts of their arms.
This class, which you despise,
Is the victim of people who serve no purpose.
When you have lost all your wealth at gambling,
You squeeze them all to pay for your follies.
The excesses into which you plunge
Close your hearts and harden them.
The idle are happy, the workers groan.
They make your property profitable, and you mortgage it:
You ruin them all when you mismanage your affairs.
Your expenses impoverish you:
They cultivate the land, and you overburden it.

D O L I V A L, aside.

My uncle has old-fashioned prejudices.

How you are dressed, my uncle! Decency
Requires clothing in accordance with one's birth;
One would take you for a farmer.

C A N D O R.

I have the honor of being one; I make my farm productive,
And I give myself entirely
To the infinite details that this job contains.
I take pride in the clothing of the trade.

D O L I V A L.

But the fabric could be less coarse.

C A N D O R.

It is good for the sun, the rain, and the dust.

D O L I V A L.

You are dressed almost like your inhabitants.