_]
I'll scrumble the ermine out of his skin!
I'll scrumble the ermine out of his skin!
Yeats
'
I have the words. They are all upon the Ogham.
'Chief Poet,' 'Ireland,' 'Townsman,' 'Grazing land. '
But what's their order?
[_He keeps muttering over his speech during what
follows. _
FIRST CRIPPLE.
The King were rightly served
If Seanchan drove his good luck away.
What's there about a king, that's in the world
From birth to burial like another man,
That he should change old customs, that were in it
As long as ever the world has been a world?
SECOND CRIPPLE.
If I were king I would not meddle with him,
For there is something queer about a poet.
I knew of one that would be making rhyme
Under a thorn at crossing of three roads.
He was as ragged as ourselves, and yet
He was no sooner dead than every thorn tree
From Inchy to Kiltartan withered away.
FIRST CRIPPLE.
The King is but a fool!
MAYOR.
I am getting ready.
FIRST CRIPPLE.
A poet has power from beyond the world,
That he may set our thoughts upon old times,
And lucky queens and little holy fish
That rise up every seventh year----
MAYOR.
Hush! hush!
FIRST CRIPPLE.
To cure the crippled.
MAYOR.
I am half ready now.
BRIAN.
There's not a mischief I'd begrudge the King
If it were any other----
MAYOR.
Hush! I am ready.
BRIAN.
That died to get it. I have brought out the food,
And if my master will not eat of it,
I'll home and get provision for his wake,
For that's no great way off. Well, have your say,
But don't be long about it.
MAYOR.
[_Goes close to SEANCHAN. _]
Chief Poet of Ireland,
I am the Mayor of your own town Kinvara,
And I am come to tell you that the news
Of this great trouble with the King of Gort
Has plunged us in deep sorrow--part for you,
Our honoured townsman, part for our good town.
[_Begins to hesitate; scratching his head. _
But what comes now? Something about the King.
BRIAN.
Get on! get on! The food is all set out.
MAYOR.
Don't hurry me.
FIRST CRIPPLE.
Give us a taste of it.
He'll not begrudge it.
SECOND CRIPPLE.
Let them that have their limbs
Starve if they will. We have to keep in mind
The stomach God has left us.
MAYOR.
Hush! I have it!
The King was said to be most friendly to us,
And we have reason, as you'll recollect,
For thinking that he was about to give
Those grazing lands inland we so much need,
Being pinched between the water and the stones.
Our mowers mow with knives between the stones;
The sea washes the meadows. You know well
We have asked nothing but what's reasonable.
SEANCHAN.
Reason in plenty. Yellowy white hair,
A hollow face, and not too many teeth.
How comes it he has been so long in the world
And not found Reason out?
[_While saying this he has turned half round. He hardly
looks at the MAYOR. _
BRIAN.
[_Trying to pull MAYOR away. _]
What good is there
In telling him what he has heard all day!
I will set food before him.
MAYOR.
[_Shoving BRIAN away. _]
Don't hurry me!
It's small respect you're showing to the town!
Get farther off! [_To SEANCHAN. _] We would not have you think,
Weighty as these considerations are,
That they have been as weighty in our minds
As our desire that one we take much pride in,
A man that's been an honour to our town,
Should live and prosper; therefore we beseech you
To give way in a matter of no moment,
A matter of mere sentiment--a trifle--
That we may always keep our pride in you.
[_He finishes this speech with a pompous air, motions
to BRIAN to bring the food to SEANCHAN, and sits on
seat. _
BRIAN.
Master, master, eat this! It's not king's food,
That's cooked for everybody and nobody.
Here's barley-bread out of your father's oven,
And dulse from Duras. Here is the dulse, your honour;
It's wholesome, and has the good taste of the sea.
[_Takes dulse in one hand and bread in other and
presses them into SEANCHAN'S hands. SEANCHAN shows by
his movement his different feeling to BRIAN. _
FIRST CRIPPLE.
He has taken it, and there'll be nothing left!
SECOND CRIPPLE.
Nothing at all; he wanted his own sort.
What's honey to a cat, corn to a dog,
Or a green apple to a ghost in a churchyard?
SEANCHAN.
[_Pressing food back into BRIAN'S hands. _]
Eat it yourself, for you have come a journey,
And it may be eat nothing on the way.
BRIAN.
How could I eat it, and your honour starving!
It is your father sends it, and he cried
Because the stiffness that is in his bones
Prevented him from coming, and bid me tell you
That he is old, that he has need of you,
And that the people will be pointing at him,
And he not able to lift up his head,
If you should turn the King's favour away;
And he adds to it, that he cared you well,
And you in your young age, and that it's right
That you should care him now.
SEANCHAN.
[_Who is now interested. _]
And is that all?
What did my mother say?
BRIAN.
She gave no message;
For when they told her you had it in mind to starve,
Or get again the ancient right of the poets,
She said: 'No message can do any good.
He will not send the answer that you want.
We cannot change him. ' And she went indoors,
Lay down upon the bed, and turned her face
Out of the light. And thereupon your father
Said: 'Tell him that his mother sends no message,
Albeit broken down and miserable. ' [_A pause. _
Here's a pigeon's egg from Duras, and these others
Were laid by your own hens.
SEANCHAN.
She has sent no message.
Our mothers know us; they know us to the bone.
They knew us before birth, and that is why
They know us even better than the sweethearts
Upon whose breasts we have lain.
Go quickly! Go
And tell them that my mother was in the right.
There is no answer. Go and tell them that.
Go tell them that she knew me.
MAYOR.
What is he saying?
I never understood a poet's talk
More than the baa of a sheep!
[_Comes over from seat. SEANCHAN turns away. _
You have not heard,
It may be, having been so much away,
How many of the cattle died last winter
From lacking grass, and that there was much sickness
Because the poor have nothing but salt fish
To live on through the winter?
BRIAN.
Get away,
And leave the place to me! It's my turn now,
For your sack's empty!
MAYOR.
Is it 'get away'!
Is that the way I'm to be spoken to!
Am I not Mayor? Amn't I authority?
Amn't I in the King's place? Answer me that!
BRIAN.
Then show the people what a king is like:
Pull down old merings and root custom up,
Whitewash the dunghills, fatten hogs and geese,
Hang your gold chain about an ass's neck,
And burn the blessed thorn trees out of the fields,
And drive what's comely away!
MAYOR.
Holy Saint Coleman!
FIRST CRIPPLE.
Fine talk! fine talk! What else does the King do?
He fattens hogs and drives the poet away!
SECOND CRIPPLE.
He starves the song-maker!
FIRST CRIPPLE.
He fattens geese!
MAYOR.
How dare you take his name into your mouth!
How dare you lift your voice against the King!
What would we be without him?
BRIAN.
Why do you praise him?
I will have nobody speak well of him,
Or any other king that robs my master.
MAYOR.
And had he not the right to? and the right
To strike your master's head off, being the King,
Or yours or mine? I say, 'Long live the King!
Because he does not take our heads from us. '
Call out, 'Long life to him! '
BRIAN.
Call out for him!
[_Speaking at same time with MAYOR. _
There's nobody'll call out for him,
But smiths will turn their anvils,
The millers turn their wheels,
The farmers turn their churns,
The witches turn their thumbs,
'Till he be broken and splintered into pieces.
MAYOR.
[_At same time with BRIAN. _]
He might, if he'd a mind to it,
Be digging out our tongues,
Or dragging out our hair,
Or bleaching us like calves,
Or weaning us like lambs,
But for the kindness and the softness that is in him.
[_They gasp for breath. _
FIRST CRIPPLE.
I'll curse him till I drop!
[_Speaking at same time as SECOND CRIPPLE and MAYOR and
BRIAN, who have begun again. _
The curse of the poor be upon him,
The curse of the widows upon him,
The curse of the children upon him,
The curse of the bishops upon him,
Until he be as rotten as an old mushroom!
SECOND CRIPPLE.
[_Speaking at same time as FIRST CRIPPLE and MAYOR and
BRIAN. _
The curse of wrinkles be upon him!
Wrinkles where his eyes are,
Wrinkles where his nose is,
Wrinkles where his mouth is,
And a little old devil looking out of every wrinkle!
BRIAN.
[_Speaking at same time with MAYOR and CRIPPLES. _]
And nobody will sing for him,
And nobody will hunt for him,
And nobody will fish for him,
And nobody will pray for him,
But ever and always curse him and abuse him.
MAYOR.
[_Speaking at same time with CRIPPLES and BRIAN. _]
What good is in a poet?
Has he money in a stocking,
Or cider in the cellar,
Or flitches in the chimney,
Or anything anywhere but his own idleness?
[_BRIAN seizes MAYOR. _
MAYOR.
Help! help! Am I not in authority?
BRIAN.
That's how I'll shout for the King!
MAYOR.
Help! help! Am I not in the King's place?
BRIAN.
I'll teach him to be kind to the poor!
MAYOR.
Help! help! Wait till we are in Kinvara!
FIRST CRIPPLE.
[_Beating MAYOR on the legs with crutch. _]
I'll shake the royalty out of his legs!
SECOND CRIPPLE.
[_Burying his nails in MAYOR'S face.
_]
I'll scrumble the ermine out of his skin!
[_The CHAMBERLAIN comes down steps shouting, '_Silence!
silence! silence! _'_
CHAMBERLAIN.
How dare you make this uproar at the doors,
Deafening the very greatest in the land,
As if the farmyards and the rookeries
Had all been emptied!
FIRST CRIPPLE.
It is the Chamberlain.
[_CRIPPLES go out. _
CHAMBERLAIN.
Pick up the litter there, and get you gone!
Be quick about it! Have you no respect
For this worn stair, this all but sacred door,
Where suppliants and tributary kings
Have passed, and the world's glory knelt in silence?
Have you no reverence for what all other men
Hold honourable?
BRIAN.
If I might speak my mind,
I'd say the King would have his luck again
If he would let my master have his rights.
CHAMBERLAIN.
Pick up your litter! Take your noise away!
Make haste, and get the clapper from the bell!
BRIAN.
[_Putting last of food into basket. _]
What do the great and powerful care for rights
That have no armies!
[_CHAMBERLAIN begins shoving them out with his staff. _
MAYOR.
My lord, I am not to blame.
I'm the King's man, and they attacked me for it.
BRIAN.
We have our prayers, our curses and our prayers,
And we can give a great name or a bad one.
[_MAYOR is shoving BRIAN out before him with one hand.
He keeps his face to CHAMBERLAIN, and keeps bowing. The
CHAMBERLAIN shoves him with his staff. _
MAYOR.
We could not make the poet eat, my lord.
[_CHAMBERLAIN shoves him with staff. _
Much honoured [_is shoved again_]--honoured to speak with you, my lord;
But I'll go find the girl that he's to marry.
She's coming, but I'll hurry her, my lord.
Between ourselves, my lord [_is shoved again_], she is a great coaxer.
Much honoured, my lord. O, she's the girl to do it;
For when the intellect is out, my lord,
Nobody but a woman's any good.
[_Is shoved again. _
Much honoured, my lord [_is shoved again_], much honoured, much
honoured!
[_Is shoved out, shoving BRIAN out before him. _
[_All through this scene, from the outset of the
quarrel, SEANCHAN has kept his face turned away, or
hidden in his cloak. While the CHAMBERLAIN has been
speaking, the SOLDIER and the MONK have come out of the
palace. The MONK stands on top of steps at one side,
SOLDIER a little down steps at the other side. COURT
LADIES are seen at opening in the palace curtain behind
SOLDIER. CHAMBERLAIN is in the centre. _
CHAMBERLAIN.
[_To SEANCHAN. _]
Well, you must be contented, for your work
Has roused the common sort against the King,
And stolen his authority. The State
Is like some orderly and reverend house,
Wherein the master, being dead of a sudden,
The servants quarrel where they have a mind to,
And pilfer here and there.
[_Pause, finding that SEANCHAN does not answer. _
How many days
Will you keep up this quarrel with the King,
And the King's nobles, and myself, and all,
Who'd gladly be your friends, if you would let them?
[_Going near to MONK. _
If you would try, you might persuade him, father.
I cannot make him answer me, and yet
If fitting hands would offer him the food,
He might accept it.
MONK.
Certainly I will not.
I've made too many homilies, wherein
The wanton imagination of the poets
Has been condemned, to be his flatterer.
If pride and disobedience are unpunished
Who will obey?
CHAMBERLAIN.
[_Going to other side towards SOLDIER. _]
If you would speak to him,
You might not find persuasion difficult,
With all the devils of hunger helping you.
SOLDIER.
I will not interfere, and if he starve
For being obstinate and stiff in the neck,
'Tis but good riddance.
CHAMBERLAIN.
One of us must do it.
It might be, if you'd reason with him, ladies,
He would eat something, for I have a notion
That if he brought misfortune on the King,
Or the King's house, we'd be as little thought of
As summer linen when the winter's come.
FIRST GIRL.
But it would be the greater compliment
If Peter'd do it.
SECOND GIRL.
Reason with him, Peter.
Persuade him to eat; he's such a bag of bones!
SOLDIER.
I'll never trust a woman's word again!
There's nobody that was so loud against him
When he was at the table; now the wind's changed,
And you that could not bear his speech or his silence,
Would have him there in his old place again;
I do believe you would, but I won't help you.
SECOND GIRL.
Why will you be so hard upon us, Peter?
You know we have turned the common sort against us,
And he looks miserable.
FIRST GIRL.
We cannot dance,
Because no harper will pluck a string for us.
SECOND GIRL.
I cannot sleep with thinking of his face.
FIRST GIRL.
And I love dancing more than anything.
SECOND GIRL.
Do not be hard on us; but yesterday
A woman in the road threw stones at me.
You would not have me stoned?
FIRST GIRL.
May I not dance?
SOLDIER.
I will do nothing. You have put him out,
And now that he is out--well, leave him out.
FIRST GIRL.
Do it for my sake, Peter.
SECOND GIRL.
And for mine.
[_Each girl as she speaks takes PETER'S hand with her
right hand, stroking down his arm with her left. While
SECOND GIRL is stroking his arm, FIRST GIRL leaves go
and gives him the dish. _
SOLDIER.
Well, well; but not your way. [_To SEANCHAN. _] Here's meat for you.
It has been carried from too good a table
For men like you, and I am offering it
Because these women have made a fool of me.
[_A pause. _
You mean to starve? You will have none of it?
I'll leave it there, where you can sniff the savour.
Snuff it, old hedgehog, and unroll yourself!
But if I were the King, I'd make you do it
With wisps of lighted straw.
SEANCHAN.
You have rightly named me.
I lie rolled up under the ragged thorns
That are upon the edge of those great waters
Where all things vanish away, and I have heard
Murmurs that are the ending of all sound.
I am out of life; I am rolled up, and yet,
Hedgehog although I am, I'll not unroll
For you, King's dog! Go to the King, your master.
Crouch down and wag your tail, for it may be
He has nothing now against you, and I think
The stripes of your last beating are all healed.
[_The SOLDIER has drawn his sword. _
CHAMBERLAIN.
[_Striking up sword. _]
Put up your sword, sir; put it up, I say!
The common sort would tear you into pieces
If you but touched him.
SOLDIER.
If he's to be flattered,
Petted, cajoled, and dandled into humour,
We might as well have left him at the table.
[_Goes to one side sheathing sword. _
SEANCHAN.
You must need keep your patience yet awhile,
For I have some few mouthfuls of sweet air
To swallow before I have grown to be as civil
As any other dust.
CHAMBERLAIN.
You wrong us, Seanchan.
There is none here but holds you in respect;
And if you'd only eat out of this dish,
The King would show how much he honours you.
[_Bowing and smiling. _
Who could imagine you'd so take to heart
Being put from the high table? I am certain
That you, if you will only think it over,
Will understand that it is men of law,
Leaders of the King's armies, and the like,
That should sit there.
SEANCHAN.
Somebody has deceived you,
Or maybe it was your own eyes that lied,
In making it appear that I was driven
From the King's table. You have driven away
The images of them that weave a dance
By the four rivers in the mountain garden.
CHAMBERLAIN.
You mean we have driven poetry away.
But that's not altogether true, for I,
As you should know, have written poetry.
And often when the table has been cleared,
And candles lighted, the King calls for me,
And I repeat it him. My poetry
Is not to be compared with yours; but still,
Where I am honoured, poetry is honoured--
In some measure.
SEANCHAN.
If you are a poet,
Cry out that the King's money would not buy,
Nor the high circle consecrate his head,
If poets had never christened gold, and even
The moon's poor daughter, that most whey-faced metal,
Precious; and cry out that none alive
Would ride among the arrows with high heart,
Or scatter with an open hand, had not
Our heady craft commended wasteful virtues.
And when that story's finished, shake your coat
Where little jewels gleam on it, and say,
A herdsman, sitting where the pigs had trampled,
Made up a song about enchanted kings,
Who were so finely dressed, one fancied them
All fiery, and women by the churn
And children by the hearth caught up the song
And murmured it, until the tailors heard it.
CHAMBERLAIN.
If you would but eat something you'd find out
That you have had these thoughts from lack of food,
For hunger makes us feverish.
SEANCHAN.
Cry aloud,
That when we are driven out we come again
Like a great wind that runs out of the waste
To blow the tables flat; and thereupon
Lie down upon the threshold till the King
Restore to us the ancient right of the poets.
MONK.
You cannot shake him. I will to the King,
And offer him consolation in his trouble,
For that man there has set his teeth to die.
And being one that hates obedience,
Discipline, and orderliness of life,
I cannot mourn him.
FIRST GIRL.
'Twas you that stirred it up.
You stirred it up that you might spoil our dancing.
Why shouldn't we have dancing? We're not in Lent.
Yet nobody will pipe or play to us;
And they will never do it if he die.
And that is why you are going.
MONK.
What folly's this?
FIRST GIRL.
Well, if you did not do it, speak to him--
Use your authority; make him obey you.
What harm is there in dancing?
MONK.
Hush! begone!
Go to the fields and watch the hurley players,
Or any other place you have a mind to.
This is not woman's work.
FIRST GIRL.
Come! let's away!
We can do nothing here.
MONK.
The pride of the poets!
Dancing, hurling, the country full of noise,
And King and Church neglected. Seanchan,
I'll take my leave, for you are perishing
Like all that let the wanton imagination
Carry them where it will, and it's not likely
I'll look upon your living face again.
SEANCHAN.
Come nearer, nearer!
MONK.
Have you some last wish?
SEANCHAN.
Stoop down, for I would whisper it in your ear.
Has that wild God of yours, that was so wild
When you'd but lately taken the King's pay,
Grown any tamer? He gave you all much trouble.
MONK.
Let go my habit!
SEANCHAN.
Have you persuaded him
To chirp between two dishes when the King
Sits down to table?
MONK.
Let go my habit, sir!
[_Crosses to centre of stage. _
SEANCHAN.
And maybe he has learnt to sing quite softly
Because loud singing would disturb the King,
Who is sitting drowsily among his friends
After the table has been cleared. Not yet!
[_SEANCHAN has been dragged some feet clinging to the
MONK'S habit. _
You did not think that hands so full of hunger
Could hold you tightly. They are not civil yet.
I'd know if you have taught him to eat bread
From the King's hand, and perch upon his finger.
I think he perches on the King's strong hand.
But it may be that he is still too wild.
I have the words. They are all upon the Ogham.
'Chief Poet,' 'Ireland,' 'Townsman,' 'Grazing land. '
But what's their order?
[_He keeps muttering over his speech during what
follows. _
FIRST CRIPPLE.
The King were rightly served
If Seanchan drove his good luck away.
What's there about a king, that's in the world
From birth to burial like another man,
That he should change old customs, that were in it
As long as ever the world has been a world?
SECOND CRIPPLE.
If I were king I would not meddle with him,
For there is something queer about a poet.
I knew of one that would be making rhyme
Under a thorn at crossing of three roads.
He was as ragged as ourselves, and yet
He was no sooner dead than every thorn tree
From Inchy to Kiltartan withered away.
FIRST CRIPPLE.
The King is but a fool!
MAYOR.
I am getting ready.
FIRST CRIPPLE.
A poet has power from beyond the world,
That he may set our thoughts upon old times,
And lucky queens and little holy fish
That rise up every seventh year----
MAYOR.
Hush! hush!
FIRST CRIPPLE.
To cure the crippled.
MAYOR.
I am half ready now.
BRIAN.
There's not a mischief I'd begrudge the King
If it were any other----
MAYOR.
Hush! I am ready.
BRIAN.
That died to get it. I have brought out the food,
And if my master will not eat of it,
I'll home and get provision for his wake,
For that's no great way off. Well, have your say,
But don't be long about it.
MAYOR.
[_Goes close to SEANCHAN. _]
Chief Poet of Ireland,
I am the Mayor of your own town Kinvara,
And I am come to tell you that the news
Of this great trouble with the King of Gort
Has plunged us in deep sorrow--part for you,
Our honoured townsman, part for our good town.
[_Begins to hesitate; scratching his head. _
But what comes now? Something about the King.
BRIAN.
Get on! get on! The food is all set out.
MAYOR.
Don't hurry me.
FIRST CRIPPLE.
Give us a taste of it.
He'll not begrudge it.
SECOND CRIPPLE.
Let them that have their limbs
Starve if they will. We have to keep in mind
The stomach God has left us.
MAYOR.
Hush! I have it!
The King was said to be most friendly to us,
And we have reason, as you'll recollect,
For thinking that he was about to give
Those grazing lands inland we so much need,
Being pinched between the water and the stones.
Our mowers mow with knives between the stones;
The sea washes the meadows. You know well
We have asked nothing but what's reasonable.
SEANCHAN.
Reason in plenty. Yellowy white hair,
A hollow face, and not too many teeth.
How comes it he has been so long in the world
And not found Reason out?
[_While saying this he has turned half round. He hardly
looks at the MAYOR. _
BRIAN.
[_Trying to pull MAYOR away. _]
What good is there
In telling him what he has heard all day!
I will set food before him.
MAYOR.
[_Shoving BRIAN away. _]
Don't hurry me!
It's small respect you're showing to the town!
Get farther off! [_To SEANCHAN. _] We would not have you think,
Weighty as these considerations are,
That they have been as weighty in our minds
As our desire that one we take much pride in,
A man that's been an honour to our town,
Should live and prosper; therefore we beseech you
To give way in a matter of no moment,
A matter of mere sentiment--a trifle--
That we may always keep our pride in you.
[_He finishes this speech with a pompous air, motions
to BRIAN to bring the food to SEANCHAN, and sits on
seat. _
BRIAN.
Master, master, eat this! It's not king's food,
That's cooked for everybody and nobody.
Here's barley-bread out of your father's oven,
And dulse from Duras. Here is the dulse, your honour;
It's wholesome, and has the good taste of the sea.
[_Takes dulse in one hand and bread in other and
presses them into SEANCHAN'S hands. SEANCHAN shows by
his movement his different feeling to BRIAN. _
FIRST CRIPPLE.
He has taken it, and there'll be nothing left!
SECOND CRIPPLE.
Nothing at all; he wanted his own sort.
What's honey to a cat, corn to a dog,
Or a green apple to a ghost in a churchyard?
SEANCHAN.
[_Pressing food back into BRIAN'S hands. _]
Eat it yourself, for you have come a journey,
And it may be eat nothing on the way.
BRIAN.
How could I eat it, and your honour starving!
It is your father sends it, and he cried
Because the stiffness that is in his bones
Prevented him from coming, and bid me tell you
That he is old, that he has need of you,
And that the people will be pointing at him,
And he not able to lift up his head,
If you should turn the King's favour away;
And he adds to it, that he cared you well,
And you in your young age, and that it's right
That you should care him now.
SEANCHAN.
[_Who is now interested. _]
And is that all?
What did my mother say?
BRIAN.
She gave no message;
For when they told her you had it in mind to starve,
Or get again the ancient right of the poets,
She said: 'No message can do any good.
He will not send the answer that you want.
We cannot change him. ' And she went indoors,
Lay down upon the bed, and turned her face
Out of the light. And thereupon your father
Said: 'Tell him that his mother sends no message,
Albeit broken down and miserable. ' [_A pause. _
Here's a pigeon's egg from Duras, and these others
Were laid by your own hens.
SEANCHAN.
She has sent no message.
Our mothers know us; they know us to the bone.
They knew us before birth, and that is why
They know us even better than the sweethearts
Upon whose breasts we have lain.
Go quickly! Go
And tell them that my mother was in the right.
There is no answer. Go and tell them that.
Go tell them that she knew me.
MAYOR.
What is he saying?
I never understood a poet's talk
More than the baa of a sheep!
[_Comes over from seat. SEANCHAN turns away. _
You have not heard,
It may be, having been so much away,
How many of the cattle died last winter
From lacking grass, and that there was much sickness
Because the poor have nothing but salt fish
To live on through the winter?
BRIAN.
Get away,
And leave the place to me! It's my turn now,
For your sack's empty!
MAYOR.
Is it 'get away'!
Is that the way I'm to be spoken to!
Am I not Mayor? Amn't I authority?
Amn't I in the King's place? Answer me that!
BRIAN.
Then show the people what a king is like:
Pull down old merings and root custom up,
Whitewash the dunghills, fatten hogs and geese,
Hang your gold chain about an ass's neck,
And burn the blessed thorn trees out of the fields,
And drive what's comely away!
MAYOR.
Holy Saint Coleman!
FIRST CRIPPLE.
Fine talk! fine talk! What else does the King do?
He fattens hogs and drives the poet away!
SECOND CRIPPLE.
He starves the song-maker!
FIRST CRIPPLE.
He fattens geese!
MAYOR.
How dare you take his name into your mouth!
How dare you lift your voice against the King!
What would we be without him?
BRIAN.
Why do you praise him?
I will have nobody speak well of him,
Or any other king that robs my master.
MAYOR.
And had he not the right to? and the right
To strike your master's head off, being the King,
Or yours or mine? I say, 'Long live the King!
Because he does not take our heads from us. '
Call out, 'Long life to him! '
BRIAN.
Call out for him!
[_Speaking at same time with MAYOR. _
There's nobody'll call out for him,
But smiths will turn their anvils,
The millers turn their wheels,
The farmers turn their churns,
The witches turn their thumbs,
'Till he be broken and splintered into pieces.
MAYOR.
[_At same time with BRIAN. _]
He might, if he'd a mind to it,
Be digging out our tongues,
Or dragging out our hair,
Or bleaching us like calves,
Or weaning us like lambs,
But for the kindness and the softness that is in him.
[_They gasp for breath. _
FIRST CRIPPLE.
I'll curse him till I drop!
[_Speaking at same time as SECOND CRIPPLE and MAYOR and
BRIAN, who have begun again. _
The curse of the poor be upon him,
The curse of the widows upon him,
The curse of the children upon him,
The curse of the bishops upon him,
Until he be as rotten as an old mushroom!
SECOND CRIPPLE.
[_Speaking at same time as FIRST CRIPPLE and MAYOR and
BRIAN. _
The curse of wrinkles be upon him!
Wrinkles where his eyes are,
Wrinkles where his nose is,
Wrinkles where his mouth is,
And a little old devil looking out of every wrinkle!
BRIAN.
[_Speaking at same time with MAYOR and CRIPPLES. _]
And nobody will sing for him,
And nobody will hunt for him,
And nobody will fish for him,
And nobody will pray for him,
But ever and always curse him and abuse him.
MAYOR.
[_Speaking at same time with CRIPPLES and BRIAN. _]
What good is in a poet?
Has he money in a stocking,
Or cider in the cellar,
Or flitches in the chimney,
Or anything anywhere but his own idleness?
[_BRIAN seizes MAYOR. _
MAYOR.
Help! help! Am I not in authority?
BRIAN.
That's how I'll shout for the King!
MAYOR.
Help! help! Am I not in the King's place?
BRIAN.
I'll teach him to be kind to the poor!
MAYOR.
Help! help! Wait till we are in Kinvara!
FIRST CRIPPLE.
[_Beating MAYOR on the legs with crutch. _]
I'll shake the royalty out of his legs!
SECOND CRIPPLE.
[_Burying his nails in MAYOR'S face.
_]
I'll scrumble the ermine out of his skin!
[_The CHAMBERLAIN comes down steps shouting, '_Silence!
silence! silence! _'_
CHAMBERLAIN.
How dare you make this uproar at the doors,
Deafening the very greatest in the land,
As if the farmyards and the rookeries
Had all been emptied!
FIRST CRIPPLE.
It is the Chamberlain.
[_CRIPPLES go out. _
CHAMBERLAIN.
Pick up the litter there, and get you gone!
Be quick about it! Have you no respect
For this worn stair, this all but sacred door,
Where suppliants and tributary kings
Have passed, and the world's glory knelt in silence?
Have you no reverence for what all other men
Hold honourable?
BRIAN.
If I might speak my mind,
I'd say the King would have his luck again
If he would let my master have his rights.
CHAMBERLAIN.
Pick up your litter! Take your noise away!
Make haste, and get the clapper from the bell!
BRIAN.
[_Putting last of food into basket. _]
What do the great and powerful care for rights
That have no armies!
[_CHAMBERLAIN begins shoving them out with his staff. _
MAYOR.
My lord, I am not to blame.
I'm the King's man, and they attacked me for it.
BRIAN.
We have our prayers, our curses and our prayers,
And we can give a great name or a bad one.
[_MAYOR is shoving BRIAN out before him with one hand.
He keeps his face to CHAMBERLAIN, and keeps bowing. The
CHAMBERLAIN shoves him with his staff. _
MAYOR.
We could not make the poet eat, my lord.
[_CHAMBERLAIN shoves him with staff. _
Much honoured [_is shoved again_]--honoured to speak with you, my lord;
But I'll go find the girl that he's to marry.
She's coming, but I'll hurry her, my lord.
Between ourselves, my lord [_is shoved again_], she is a great coaxer.
Much honoured, my lord. O, she's the girl to do it;
For when the intellect is out, my lord,
Nobody but a woman's any good.
[_Is shoved again. _
Much honoured, my lord [_is shoved again_], much honoured, much
honoured!
[_Is shoved out, shoving BRIAN out before him. _
[_All through this scene, from the outset of the
quarrel, SEANCHAN has kept his face turned away, or
hidden in his cloak. While the CHAMBERLAIN has been
speaking, the SOLDIER and the MONK have come out of the
palace. The MONK stands on top of steps at one side,
SOLDIER a little down steps at the other side. COURT
LADIES are seen at opening in the palace curtain behind
SOLDIER. CHAMBERLAIN is in the centre. _
CHAMBERLAIN.
[_To SEANCHAN. _]
Well, you must be contented, for your work
Has roused the common sort against the King,
And stolen his authority. The State
Is like some orderly and reverend house,
Wherein the master, being dead of a sudden,
The servants quarrel where they have a mind to,
And pilfer here and there.
[_Pause, finding that SEANCHAN does not answer. _
How many days
Will you keep up this quarrel with the King,
And the King's nobles, and myself, and all,
Who'd gladly be your friends, if you would let them?
[_Going near to MONK. _
If you would try, you might persuade him, father.
I cannot make him answer me, and yet
If fitting hands would offer him the food,
He might accept it.
MONK.
Certainly I will not.
I've made too many homilies, wherein
The wanton imagination of the poets
Has been condemned, to be his flatterer.
If pride and disobedience are unpunished
Who will obey?
CHAMBERLAIN.
[_Going to other side towards SOLDIER. _]
If you would speak to him,
You might not find persuasion difficult,
With all the devils of hunger helping you.
SOLDIER.
I will not interfere, and if he starve
For being obstinate and stiff in the neck,
'Tis but good riddance.
CHAMBERLAIN.
One of us must do it.
It might be, if you'd reason with him, ladies,
He would eat something, for I have a notion
That if he brought misfortune on the King,
Or the King's house, we'd be as little thought of
As summer linen when the winter's come.
FIRST GIRL.
But it would be the greater compliment
If Peter'd do it.
SECOND GIRL.
Reason with him, Peter.
Persuade him to eat; he's such a bag of bones!
SOLDIER.
I'll never trust a woman's word again!
There's nobody that was so loud against him
When he was at the table; now the wind's changed,
And you that could not bear his speech or his silence,
Would have him there in his old place again;
I do believe you would, but I won't help you.
SECOND GIRL.
Why will you be so hard upon us, Peter?
You know we have turned the common sort against us,
And he looks miserable.
FIRST GIRL.
We cannot dance,
Because no harper will pluck a string for us.
SECOND GIRL.
I cannot sleep with thinking of his face.
FIRST GIRL.
And I love dancing more than anything.
SECOND GIRL.
Do not be hard on us; but yesterday
A woman in the road threw stones at me.
You would not have me stoned?
FIRST GIRL.
May I not dance?
SOLDIER.
I will do nothing. You have put him out,
And now that he is out--well, leave him out.
FIRST GIRL.
Do it for my sake, Peter.
SECOND GIRL.
And for mine.
[_Each girl as she speaks takes PETER'S hand with her
right hand, stroking down his arm with her left. While
SECOND GIRL is stroking his arm, FIRST GIRL leaves go
and gives him the dish. _
SOLDIER.
Well, well; but not your way. [_To SEANCHAN. _] Here's meat for you.
It has been carried from too good a table
For men like you, and I am offering it
Because these women have made a fool of me.
[_A pause. _
You mean to starve? You will have none of it?
I'll leave it there, where you can sniff the savour.
Snuff it, old hedgehog, and unroll yourself!
But if I were the King, I'd make you do it
With wisps of lighted straw.
SEANCHAN.
You have rightly named me.
I lie rolled up under the ragged thorns
That are upon the edge of those great waters
Where all things vanish away, and I have heard
Murmurs that are the ending of all sound.
I am out of life; I am rolled up, and yet,
Hedgehog although I am, I'll not unroll
For you, King's dog! Go to the King, your master.
Crouch down and wag your tail, for it may be
He has nothing now against you, and I think
The stripes of your last beating are all healed.
[_The SOLDIER has drawn his sword. _
CHAMBERLAIN.
[_Striking up sword. _]
Put up your sword, sir; put it up, I say!
The common sort would tear you into pieces
If you but touched him.
SOLDIER.
If he's to be flattered,
Petted, cajoled, and dandled into humour,
We might as well have left him at the table.
[_Goes to one side sheathing sword. _
SEANCHAN.
You must need keep your patience yet awhile,
For I have some few mouthfuls of sweet air
To swallow before I have grown to be as civil
As any other dust.
CHAMBERLAIN.
You wrong us, Seanchan.
There is none here but holds you in respect;
And if you'd only eat out of this dish,
The King would show how much he honours you.
[_Bowing and smiling. _
Who could imagine you'd so take to heart
Being put from the high table? I am certain
That you, if you will only think it over,
Will understand that it is men of law,
Leaders of the King's armies, and the like,
That should sit there.
SEANCHAN.
Somebody has deceived you,
Or maybe it was your own eyes that lied,
In making it appear that I was driven
From the King's table. You have driven away
The images of them that weave a dance
By the four rivers in the mountain garden.
CHAMBERLAIN.
You mean we have driven poetry away.
But that's not altogether true, for I,
As you should know, have written poetry.
And often when the table has been cleared,
And candles lighted, the King calls for me,
And I repeat it him. My poetry
Is not to be compared with yours; but still,
Where I am honoured, poetry is honoured--
In some measure.
SEANCHAN.
If you are a poet,
Cry out that the King's money would not buy,
Nor the high circle consecrate his head,
If poets had never christened gold, and even
The moon's poor daughter, that most whey-faced metal,
Precious; and cry out that none alive
Would ride among the arrows with high heart,
Or scatter with an open hand, had not
Our heady craft commended wasteful virtues.
And when that story's finished, shake your coat
Where little jewels gleam on it, and say,
A herdsman, sitting where the pigs had trampled,
Made up a song about enchanted kings,
Who were so finely dressed, one fancied them
All fiery, and women by the churn
And children by the hearth caught up the song
And murmured it, until the tailors heard it.
CHAMBERLAIN.
If you would but eat something you'd find out
That you have had these thoughts from lack of food,
For hunger makes us feverish.
SEANCHAN.
Cry aloud,
That when we are driven out we come again
Like a great wind that runs out of the waste
To blow the tables flat; and thereupon
Lie down upon the threshold till the King
Restore to us the ancient right of the poets.
MONK.
You cannot shake him. I will to the King,
And offer him consolation in his trouble,
For that man there has set his teeth to die.
And being one that hates obedience,
Discipline, and orderliness of life,
I cannot mourn him.
FIRST GIRL.
'Twas you that stirred it up.
You stirred it up that you might spoil our dancing.
Why shouldn't we have dancing? We're not in Lent.
Yet nobody will pipe or play to us;
And they will never do it if he die.
And that is why you are going.
MONK.
What folly's this?
FIRST GIRL.
Well, if you did not do it, speak to him--
Use your authority; make him obey you.
What harm is there in dancing?
MONK.
Hush! begone!
Go to the fields and watch the hurley players,
Or any other place you have a mind to.
This is not woman's work.
FIRST GIRL.
Come! let's away!
We can do nothing here.
MONK.
The pride of the poets!
Dancing, hurling, the country full of noise,
And King and Church neglected. Seanchan,
I'll take my leave, for you are perishing
Like all that let the wanton imagination
Carry them where it will, and it's not likely
I'll look upon your living face again.
SEANCHAN.
Come nearer, nearer!
MONK.
Have you some last wish?
SEANCHAN.
Stoop down, for I would whisper it in your ear.
Has that wild God of yours, that was so wild
When you'd but lately taken the King's pay,
Grown any tamer? He gave you all much trouble.
MONK.
Let go my habit!
SEANCHAN.
Have you persuaded him
To chirp between two dishes when the King
Sits down to table?
MONK.
Let go my habit, sir!
[_Crosses to centre of stage. _
SEANCHAN.
And maybe he has learnt to sing quite softly
Because loud singing would disturb the King,
Who is sitting drowsily among his friends
After the table has been cleared. Not yet!
[_SEANCHAN has been dragged some feet clinging to the
MONK'S habit. _
You did not think that hands so full of hunger
Could hold you tightly. They are not civil yet.
I'd know if you have taught him to eat bread
From the King's hand, and perch upon his finger.
I think he perches on the King's strong hand.
But it may be that he is still too wild.
