The Collected Works in Verse and Prose of William Butler Yeats. Volume 2 of 8

William Butler Yeats

The Collected Works in Verse and Prose of William Butler Yeats, Vol. 2

The friends that have it I do wrongWhen ever I remake a song,Should know what issue is at stake:It is myself that I remake.

THE KING’S THRESHOLD

To Frank FayBECAUSE OF HIS BEAUTIFUL SPEAKING INTHE CHARACTER OF SEANCHAN

PERSONS IN THE PLAY

King Guaire

Seanchan (pronounced Shanahan)

His Pupils

The Mayor of Kinvara

Two Cripples

Brian (an old servant)

The Lord High Chamberlain

A Soldier

A Monk

Court Ladies

Two Princesses

Fedelm

THE KING’S THRESHOLD

Steps before the Palace of KING GUAIRE at Gort. A table in front of steps at one side, with food on it, and a bench by table. Seanchan lying on steps. PUPILS before steps. KING on the upper step before a curtained door.

KINGI welcome you that have the masteryOf the two kinds of Music: the one kindBeing like a woman, the other like a man.Both you that understand stringed instruments,And how to mingle words and notes togetherSo artfully, that all the Art’s but SpeechDelighted with its own music; and you that carryThe long twisted horn, and understandThe heady notes that, being without words,Can hurry beyond Time and Fate and Change.For the high angels that drive the horse of Time —The golden one by day, by night the silver —Are not more welcome to one that loves the worldFor some fair woman’s sake.I have called you hitherTo save the life of your great master, Seanchan,For all day long it has flamed up or flickeredTo the fast cooling hearth.OLDEST PUPILWhen did he sicken?Is it a fever that is wasting him?KINGNo fever or sickness. He has chosen death:Refusing to eat or drink, that he may bringDisgrace upon me; for there is a custom,An old and foolish custom, that if a manBe wronged, or think that he is wronged, and starveUpon another’s threshold till he die,The common people, for all time to come,Will raise a heavy cry against that threshold,Even though it be the King’s.OLDEST PUPILMy head whirls round;I do not know what I am to think or say.I owe you all obedience, and yetHow can I give it, when the man I have lovedMore than all others, thinks that he is wrongedSo bitterly, that he will starve and dieRather than bear it? Is there any manWill throw his life away for a light issue?KINGIt is but fitting that you take his sideUntil you understand how light an issueHas put us by the ears. Three days agoI yielded to the outcry of my courtiers —Bishops, Soldiers, and Makers of the Law —Who long had thought it against their dignityFor a mere man of words to sit amongst themAt my own table. When the meal was spread,I ordered Seanchan to a lower table;And when he pleaded for the poets’ right,Established at the establishment of the world,I said that I was King, and that all rightsHad their original fountain in some king,And that it was the men who ruled the world,And not the men who sang to it, who should sitWhere there was the most honour. My courtiers —Bishops, Soldiers, and Makers of the Law —Shouted approval; and amid that noiseSeanchan went out, and from that hour to this,Although there is good food and drink beside him,Has eaten nothing.OLDEST PUPILI can breathe again.You have taken a great burden from my mind,For that old custom’s not worth dying for.KINGPersuade him to eat or drink. Till yesterdayI thought that hunger and weakness had been enough;But finding them too trifling and too lightTo hold his mouth from biting at the grave,I called you hither, and all my hope’s in you,And certain of his neighbours and good friendsThat I have sent for. While he is lying therePerishing, my good name in the worldIs perishing also. I cannot give way,Because I am King. Because if I gave way,My Nobles would call me a weakling, and it may beThe very throne be shaken.OLDEST PUPILI will persuade him.Your words had been enough persuasion, King;But being lost in sleep or reverie,He cannot hear them.KINGMake him eat or drink.Nor is it all because of my good nameI’d have him do it, for he is a manThat might well hit the fancy of a king,Banished out of his country, or a woman’s,Or any other’s that can judge a manFor what he is. But I that sit a throne,And take my measure from the needs of the State,Call his wild thought that overruns the measure,Making words more than deeds, and his proud willThat would unsettle all, most mischievous,And he himself a most mischievous man.[He turns to go, and then returns again.Promise a house with grass and tillage land,An annual payment, jewels and silken ware,Or anything but that old right of the poets.[He goes into palace.OLDEST PUPILThe King did wrong to abrogate our right;But Seanchan, who talks of dying for it,Talks foolishly. Look at us, Seanchan;Waken out of your dream and look at us,Who have ridden under the moon and all the day,Until the moon has all but come again,That we might be beside you.SEANCHAN[Half turning round, leaning on his elbow, andspeaking as if in a dream.]I was but nowIn Almhuin, in a great high-raftered house,With Finn and Osgar. Odours of roast fleshRose round me, and I saw the roasting-spits;And then the dream was broken, and I sawGrania dividing salmon by a stream.OLDEST PUPILHunger has made you dream of roasting flesh;And though I all but weep to think of it,The hunger of the crane, that starves himselfAt the full moon because he is afraidOf his own shadow and the glittering water,Seems to me little more fantasticalThan this of yours.SEANCHANWhy, that’s the very truth.It is as though the moon changed everything —Myself and all that I can hear and see;For when the heavy body has grown weak,There’s nothing that can tether the wild mindThat, being moonstruck and fantastical,Goes where it fancies. I had even thoughtI knew your voice and face, but now the wordsAre so unlikely that I needs must askWho is it that bids me put my hunger by.OLDEST PUPILI am your oldest pupil, Seanchan;The one that has been with you many years —So many, that you said at CandlemasThat I had almost done with school, and knewAll but all that poets understand.SEANCHANMy oldest pupil? No, that cannot be,For it is some one of the courtly crowdsThat have been round about me from sunrise,And I am tricked by dreams; but I’ll refute them.At Candlemas I bid that pupil tell meWhy poetry is honoured, wishing to knowIf he had any weighty argumentFor distant countries and strange, churlish kings.What did he answer?OLDEST PUPILI said the poets hungImages of the life that was in EdenAbout the child-bed of the world, that it,Looking upon those images, might bearTriumphant children. But why must I stand here,Repeating an old lesson, while you starve?SEANCHANTell on, for I begin to know the voice.What evil thing will come upon the worldIf the Arts perish?OLDEST PUPILIf the Arts should perish,The world that lacked them would be like a woman,That looking on the cloven lips of a hare,Brings forth a hare-lipped child.SEANCHANBut that’s not all:For when I asked you how a man should guardThose images, you had an answer also,If you’re the man that you have claimed to be,Comparing them to venerable thingsGod gave to men before he gave them wheat.OLDEST PUPILI answered – and the word was half your own —That he should guard them as the Men of DeaGuard their four treasures, as the Grail King guardsHis holy cup, or the pale, righteous horseThe jewel that is underneath his horn,Pouring out life for it as one pours outSweet heady wine… But now I understand;You would refute me out of my own mouth;And yet a place at table, near the King,Is nothing of great moment, Seanchan.How does so light a thing touch poetry?[Seanchan is now sitting up. He still looks dreamily in front of himSEANCHANAt Candlemas you called this poetryOne of the fragile, mighty things of God,That die at an insult.OLDEST PUPIL[To other PUPILS.]Give me some true answer,For on that day we spoke about the Court,And said that all that was insulted thereThe world insulted, for the Courtly life,Being the first comely child of the world,Is the world’s model. How shall I answer him?Can you not give me some true argument?I will not tempt him with a lying one.YOUNGEST PUPILO, tell him that the lovers of his musicHave need of him.SEANCHANBut I am labouringFor some that shall be born in the nick o’ time,And find sweet nurture, that they may have voices,Even in anger, like the strings of harps;And how could they be born to majestyIf I had never made the golden cradle?YOUNGEST PUPIL[Throwing himself at SEANCHAN’S feet.]Why did you take me from my father’s fields?If you would leave me now, what shall I love?Where shall I go? What shall I set my hand to?And why have you put music in my ears,If you would send me to the clattering houses?I will throw down the trumpet and the harp,For how could I sing verses or make musicWith none to praise me, and a broken heart?SEANCHANWhat was it that the poets promised you,If it was not their sorrow? Do not speak.Have I not opened school on these bare steps,And are not you the youngest of my scholars?And I would have all know that when all fallsIn ruin, poetry calls out in joy,Being the scattering hand, the bursting pod,The victim’s joy among the holy flame,God’s laughter at the shattering of the world.And now that joy laughs out, and weeps and burnsOn these bare steps.YOUNGEST PUPILO master, do not die!OLDEST PUPILTrouble him with no useless argument.Be silent! There is nothing we can doExcept find out the King and kneel to him,And beg our ancient right.For here are someTo say whatever we could say and more,And fare as badly. Come, boy, that is no use.[Raises YOUNGEST PUPIL.If it seem well that we beseech the King,Lay down your harps and trumpets on the stonesIn silence, and come with me silently.Come with slow footfalls, and bow all your heads,For a bowed head becomes a mourner best.[They lay harps and trumpets down one by one, and then go out very solemnly and slowly, following one another. Enter MAYOR, TWO CRIPPLES, and BRIAN, an old servant. The mayor, who has been heard, before he came upon the stage, muttering ‘Chief Poet,’ ‘Ireland,’ etc., crosses in front of SEANCHAN to the other side of the steps. BRIAN takes food out of basket. The CRIPPLES are watching the basket. The MAYOR has an Ogham stick in his handMAYOR[As he crosses.]‘Chief Poet,’ ‘Ireland,’ ‘Townsman,’ ‘Grazing land,’Those are the words I have to keep in mind —‘Chief Poet,’ ‘Ireland,’ ‘Townsman,’ ‘Grazing land.’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 followsFIRST CRIPPLEThe King were rightly servedIf Seanchan drove his good luck away.What’s there about a king, that’s in the worldFrom birth to burial like another man,That he should change old customs, that were in itAs long as ever the world has been a world?SECOND CRIPPLEIf 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 rhymeUnder a thorn at crossing of three roads.He was as ragged as ourselves, and yetHe was no sooner dead than every thorn treeFrom Inchy to Kiltartan withered away.FIRST CRIPPLEThe King is but a fool!MAYORI am getting ready.FIRST CRIPPLEA poet has power from beyond the world,That he may set our thoughts upon old times,And lucky queens and little holy fishThat rise up every seventh year —MAYORHush! hush!FIRST CRIPPLETo cure the crippled.MAYORI am half ready now.BRIANThere’s not a mischief I’d begrudge the KingIf it were any other —MAYORHush! I am ready.BRIANThat 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 newsOf this great trouble with the King of GortHas 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.BRIANGet on! get on! The food is all set out.MAYORDon’t hurry me.FIRST CRIPPLEGive us a taste of it.He’ll not begrudge it.SECOND CRIPPLELet them that have their limbsStarve if they will. We have to keep in mindThe stomach God has left us.MAYORHush! 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 giveThose 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 wellWe have asked nothing but what’s reasonable.SEANCHANReason in plenty. Yellowy white hair,A hollow face, and not too many teeth.How comes it he has been so long in the worldAnd not found Reason out?[While saying this he has turned half round. He hardly looks at the MAYORBRIAN[Trying to pull MAYOR away.]What good is thereIn 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 mindsAs 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 youTo 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 seatBRIANMaster, 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 BRIANFIRST CRIPPLEHe has taken it, and there’ll be nothing left!SECOND CRIPPLENothing 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.BRIANHow could I eat it, and your honour starving!It is your father sends it, and he criedBecause the stiffness that is in his bonesPrevented him from coming, and bid me tell youThat 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 rightThat you should care him now.SEANCHAN[Who is now interested.]And is that all?What did my mother say?BRIANShe 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 faceOut of the light. And thereupon your fatherSaid: ‘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 othersWere laid by your own hens.SEANCHANShe has sent no message.Our mothers know us; they know us to the bone.They knew us before birth, and that is whyThey know us even better than the sweetheartsUpon whose breasts we have lain.Go quickly! GoAnd 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.MAYORWhat is he saying?I never understood a poet’s talkMore than the baa of a sheep![Comes over from seat. SEANCHAN turns awayYou have not heard,It may be, having been so much away,How many of the cattle died last winterFrom lacking grass, and that there was much sicknessBecause the poor have nothing but salt fishTo live on through the winter?BRIANGet away,And leave the place to me! It’s my turn now,For your sack’s empty!MAYORIs 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!BRIANThen 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!MAYORHoly Saint Coleman!FIRST CRIPPLEFine talk! fine talk! What else does the King do?He fattens hogs and drives the poet away!SECOND CRIPPLEHe starves the song-maker!FIRST CRIPPLEHe fattens geese!MAYORHow dare you take his name into your mouth!How dare you lift your voice against the King!What would we be without him?BRIANWhy do you praise him?I will have nobody speak well of him,Or any other king that robs my master.MAYORAnd had he not the right to? and the rightTo 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!’BRIANCall 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 CRIPPLEI’ll curse him till I drop![Speaking at same time as SECOND CRIPPLE and MAYOR and BRIAN, who have begun againThe 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 BRIANThe 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.MAYORHelp! help! Am I not in authority?BRIANThat’s how I’ll shout for the King!MAYORHelp! help! Am I not in the King’s place?BRIANI’ll teach him to be kind to the poor!MAYORHelp! 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!’CHAMBERLAINHow dare you make this uproar at the doors,Deafening the very greatest in the land,As if the farmyards and the rookeriesHad all been emptied!FIRST CRIPPLEIt is the Chamberlain.[CRIPPLES go out.CHAMBERLAINPick up the litter there, and get you gone!Be quick about it! Have you no respectFor this worn stair, this all but sacred door,Where suppliants and tributary kingsHave passed, and the world’s glory knelt in silence?Have you no reverence for what all other menHold honourable?BRIANIf I might speak my mind,I’d say the King would have his luck againIf he would let my master have his rights.CHAMBERLAINPick 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 rightsThat have no armies![CHAMBERLAIN begins shoving them out with his staffMAYORMy lord, I am not to blame.I’m the King’s man, and they attacked me for it.BRIANWe 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 staffMAYORWe 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 centreCHAMBERLAIN[To SEANCHAN.]Well, you must be contented, for your workHas roused the common sort against the King,And stolen his authority. The StateIs 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 daysWill 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 yetIf fitting hands would offer him the food,He might accept it.MONKCertainly I will not.I’ve made too many homilies, whereinThe wanton imagination of the poetsHas been condemned, to be his flatterer.If pride and disobedience are unpunishedWho 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.SOLDIERI will not interfere, and if he starveFor being obstinate and stiff in the neck,’Tis but good riddance.CHAMBERLAINOne of us must do it.It might be, if you’d reason with him, ladies,He would eat something, for I have a notionThat if he brought misfortune on the King,Or the King’s house, we’d be as little thought ofAs summer linen when the winter’s come.FIRST GIRLBut it would be the greater complimentIf Peter’d do it.SECOND GIRLReason with him, Peter.Persuade him to eat; he’s such a bag of bones!SOLDIERI’ll never trust a woman’s word again!There’s nobody that was so loud against himWhen 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 GIRLWhy will you be so hard upon us, Peter?You know we have turned the common sort against us,And he looks miserable.FIRST GIRLWe cannot dance,Because no harper will pluck a string for us.SECOND GIRLI cannot sleep with thinking of his face.FIRST GIRLAnd I love dancing more than anything.SECOND GIRLDo not be hard on us; but yesterdayA woman in the road threw stones at me.You would not have me stoned?FIRST GIRLMay I not dance?SOLDIERI will do nothing. You have put him out,And now that he is out – well, leave him out.FIRST GIRLDo it for my sake, Peter.SECOND GIRLAnd 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 dishSOLDIERWell, well; but not your way. [To SEANCHAN.] Here’s meat for you.It has been carried from too good a tableFor men like you, and I am offering itBecause 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 itWith wisps of lighted straw.SEANCHANYou have rightly named me.I lie rolled up under the ragged thornsThat are upon the edge of those great watersWhere all things vanish away, and I have heardMurmurs 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 unrollFor you, King’s dog! Go to the King, your master.Crouch down and wag your tail, for it may beHe has nothing now against you, and I thinkThe 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 piecesIf you but touched him.SOLDIERIf 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.SEANCHANYou must need keep your patience yet awhile,For I have some few mouthfuls of sweet airTo swallow before I have grown to be as civilAs any other dust.CHAMBERLAINYou 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 heartBeing put from the high table? I am certainThat 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.SEANCHANSomebody has deceived you,Or maybe it was your own eyes that lied,In making it appear that I was drivenFrom the King’s table. You have driven awayThe images of them that weave a danceBy the four rivers in the mountain garden.CHAMBERLAINYou 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 poetryIs not to be compared with yours; but still,Where I am honoured, poetry is honoured —In some measure.SEANCHANIf 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 evenThe moon’s poor daughter, that most whey-faced metal,Precious; and cry out that none aliveWould ride among the arrows with high heart,Or scatter with an open hand, had notOur heady craft commended wasteful virtues.And when that story’s finished, shake your coatWhere 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 themAll fiery, and women by the churnAnd children by the hearth caught up the songAnd murmured it, until the tailors heard it.CHAMBERLAINIf you would but eat something you’d find outThat you have had these thoughts from lack of food,For hunger makes us feverish.SEANCHANCry aloud,That when we are driven out we come againLike a great wind that runs out of the wasteTo blow the tables flat; and thereuponLie down upon the threshold till the KingRestore to us the ancient right of the poets.MONKYou 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.MONKWhat folly’s this?FIRST GIRLWell, if you did not do it, speak to him —Use your authority; make him obey you.What harm is there in dancing?MONKHush! 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 GIRLCome! let’s away!We can do nothing here.MONKThe 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 perishingLike all that let the wanton imaginationCarry them where it will, and it’s not likelyI’ll look upon your living face again.SEANCHANCome nearer, nearer!MONKHave you some last wish?SEANCHANStoop down, for I would whisper it in your ear.Has that wild God of yours, that was so wildWhen you’d but lately taken the King’s pay,Grown any tamer? He gave you all much trouble.MONKLet go my habit!SEANCHANHave you persuaded himTo chirp between two dishes when the KingSits down to table?MONKLet go my habit, sir![Crosses to centre of stage.SEANCHANAnd maybe he has learnt to sing quite softlyBecause loud singing would disturb the King,Who is sitting drowsily among his friendsAfter the table has been cleared. Not yet![SEANCHAN has been dragged some feet clinging to the MONK’S habitYou did not think that hands so full of hungerCould hold you tightly. They are not civil yet.I’d know if you have taught him to eat breadFrom 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.You must not weary in your work; a kingIs often weary, and he needs a GodTo be a comfort to him.[The MONK plucks his habit away and goes into palace. SEANCHAN holds up his hand as if a bird perched upon it. He pretends to stroke the birdA little God,With comfortable feathers, and bright eyes.FIRST GIRLThere will be no more dancing in our time,For nobody will play the harp or the fiddle.Let us away, for we cannot amend it,And watch the hurley.SECOND GIRLHush! he is looking at us.SEANCHANYes, yes, go to the hurley, go to the hurley,Go to the hurley! Gather up your skirts —Run quickly! You can remember many love songs;I know it by the light that’s in your eyes —But you’ll forget them. You’re fair to look upon.Your feet delight in dancing, and your mouthsIn the slow smiling that awakens love.The mothers that have borne you mated rightly.They’d little ears as thirsty as your earsFor many love songs. Go to the young men.Are not the ruddy flesh and the thin flanksAnd the broad shoulders worthy of desire?Go from me! Here is nothing for your eyes.But it is I that am singing you away —Singing you to the young men.[The TWO YOUNG PRINCESSES come out of palace. While he has been speaking the GIRLS have shrunk back holding each other’s handsFIRST GIRLBe quiet!Look who it is has come out of the house.Princesses, we are for the hurling field.Will you go there?FIRST PRINCESSWe will go with you, Aileen.But we must have some words with Seanchan,For we have come to make him eat and drink.CHAMBERLAINI will hold out the dish and cup for himWhile you are speaking to him of his folly,If you desire it, Princess.[He has taken dish and cup.FIRST PRINCESSNo, FinulaWill carry him the dish and I the cup.We’ll offer them ourselves.[They take cup and dish.FIRST GIRLThey are so gracious;The dear little Princesses are so gracious.[PRINCESS holds out her hand for SEANCHAN to kiss it. He does not moveAlthough she is holding out her hand to him,He will not kiss it.FIRST PRINCESSMy father bids us sayThat, though he cannot have you at his table,You may ask any other thing you likeAnd he will give it you. We carry youWith our own hands a dish and cup of wine.FIRST GIRLO, look! he has taken it! He has taken it!The dear Princesses! I have always saidThat nobody could refuse them anything.[SEANCHAN takes the cup in one hand. In the other he holds for a moment the hand of the PRINCESSSEANCHANO long, soft fingers and pale finger-tips,Well worthy to be laid in a king’s hand!O, you have fair white hands, for it is certainThere is uncommon whiteness in these hands.But there is something comes into my mind,Princess. A little while before your birth,I saw your mother sitting by the roadIn a high chair; and when a leper passed,She pointed him the way into the town.He lifted up his hand and blessed her hand —I saw it with my own eyes. Hold out your hands;I will find out if they are contaminated,For it has come into my thoughts that maybeThe King has sent me food and drink by handsThat are contaminated. I would see all your hands.You’ve eyes of dancers; but hold out your hands,For it may be there are none sound among you.[The PRINCESSES have shrunk back in terror.FIRST PRINCESSHe has called us lepers.[SOLDIER draws sword.CHAMBERLAINHe’s out of his mind,And does not know the meaning of what he said.SEANCHAN[Standing up.]There’s no sound hand among you – no sound hand.Away with you! away with all of you!You are all lepers! There is leprosyAmong the plates and dishes that you have carried.And wherefore have you brought me leper’s wine?[He flings the contents of the cup in their faces.There, there! I have given it to you again. And nowBegone, or I will give my curse to you.You have the leper’s blessing, but you thinkMaybe the bread will something lack in savourUnless you mix my curse into the dough.[They go out hurriedly in all directions. SEANCHAN is staggering in the middle of the stageWhere did I say the leprosy had come from?I said it came out of a leper’s hand, Enter CRIPPLES.And that he walked the highway. But that’s folly,For he was walking up there in the sky.And there he is even now, with his white handThrust out of the blue air, and blessing themWith leprosy.FIRST CRIPPLEHe’s pointing at the moonThat’s coming out up yonder, and he calls itLeprous, because the daylight whitens it.SEANCHANHe’s holding up his hand above them all —King, noblemen, princesses – blessing all.Who could imagine he’d have so much patience?FIRST CRIPPLE[Clutching the other CRIPPLE.]Come out of this!SECOND CRIPPLE[Pointing to food.]If you don’t need it, sir,May we not carry some of it away?[They cross towards food and pass in front of SEANCHANSEANCHANWho’s speaking? Who are you?FIRST CRIPPLECome out of this!SECOND CRIPPLEHave pity on us, that must beg our breadFrom table to table throughout the entire world,And yet be hungry.SEANCHANBut why were you born crooked?What bad poet did your mothers listen toThat you were born so crooked?CRIPPLECome away!Maybe he’s cursed the food, and it might kill us.OTHER CRIPPLEYes, better come away.[They go out.SEANCHAN[Staggering, and speaking wearily.]He has great strengthAnd great patience to hold his right hand there,Uplifted, and not wavering about.He is much stronger than I am, much stronger.[Sinks down on steps. Enter MAYOR and FEDELMFEDELM[Her finger on her lips.]Say nothing! I will get him out of thisBefore I have said a word of food and drink;For while he is on this threshold and can hear,It may be, the voices that made mock of him,He would not listen. I’d be alone with him.[MAYOR goes out. FEDELM goes to SEANCHAN and kneels before himSeanchan! Seanchan![He remains looking into the sky.Can you not hear me, Seanchan?It is myself.[He looks at her, dreamily at first, then takes her handSEANCHANIs this your hand, Fedelm?I have been looking at another handThat is up yonder.FEDELMI have come for you.SEANCHANFedelm, I did not know that you were here.FEDELMAnd can you not remember that I promisedThat I would come and take you home with meWhen I’d the harvest in? And now I’ve come,And you must come away, and come on the instant.SEANCHANYes, I will come. But is the harvest in?This air has got a summer taste in it.FEDELMBut is not the wild middle of the summerA better time to marry? Come with me now!SEANCHAN[Seizing her by both wrists.]Who taught you that? For it’s a certainty,Although I never knew it till last night,That marriage, because it is the height of life,Can only be accomplished to the fullIn the high days of the year. I lay awake:There had come a frenzy into the light of the stars,And they were coming nearer, and I knewAll in a minute they were about to marryClods out upon the ploughlands, to begetA mightier race than any that has been.But some that are within there made a noise,And frighted them away.FEDELMCome with me now!We have far to go, and daylight’s running out.SEANCHANThe stars had come so near me that I caughtTheir singing. It was praise of that great raceThat would be haughty, mirthful, and white-bodied,With a high head, and open hand, and how,Laughing, it would take the mastery of the world.FEDELMBut you will tell me all about their songsWhen we’re at home. You have need of rest and care,And I can give them you when we’re at home.And therefore let us hurry, and get us home.SEANCHANIt’s certain that there is some trouble here,Although it’s gone out of my memory.And I would get away from it. Give me your help. [Trying to rise.But why are not my pupils here to help me?Go, call my pupils, for I need their help.FEDELMCome with me now, and I will send for them,For I have a great room that’s full of bedsI can make ready; and there is a smooth lawnWhere they can play at hurley and sing poemsUnder an apple-tree.SEANCHANI know that place:An apple-tree, and a smooth level lawnWhere the young men can sway their hurley sticks.[Sings.]The four rivers that run there,Through well-mown level ground,Have come out of a blessed wellThat is all bound and woundBy the great roots of an apple,And all the fowl of the airHave gathered in the wide branchesAnd keep singing there.[FEDELM, troubled, has covered her eyes with her handsFEDELMNo, there are not four rivers, and those rhymesPraise Adam’s paradise.SEANCHANI can remember now,It’s out of a poem I made long agoAbout the Garden in the East of the World,And how spirits in the images of birdsCrowd in the branches of old Adam’s crabtree.They come before me now, and dig in the fruitWith so much gluttony, and are so drunkWith that harsh wholesome savour, that their feathersAre clinging one to another with the juice.But you would lead me to some friendly place,And I would go there quickly.FEDELM[Helping him to rise.]Come with me.He walks slowly, supported by her, till he comes to tableSEANCHANBut why am I so weak? Have I been ill?Sweetheart, why is it that I am so weak?[Sinks on to seat.FEDELM[Goes to table.]I’ll dip this piece of bread into the wine,For that will make you stronger for the journey.SEANCHANYes, give me bread and wine; that’s what I want,For it is hunger that is gnawing me.[He takes bread from FEDELM, hesitates, and then thrusts it back into her handBut, no; I must not eat it.FEDELMEat, Seanchan.For if you do not eat it you will die.SEANCHANWhy did you give me food? Why did you come?For had I not enough to fight againstWithout your coming?FEDELMEat this little crust,Seanchan, if you have any love for me.SEANCHANI must not eat it – but that’s beyond your wit.Child! child! I must not eat it, though I die.FEDELM[Passionately.]You do not know what love is; for if you loved,You would put every other thought away.But you have never loved me.SEANCHAN[Seizing her by wrist.]You, a child,Who have but seen a man out of the window,Tell me that I know nothing about love,And that I do not love you! Did I not sayThere was a frenzy in the light of the starsAll through the livelong night, and that the nightWas full of marriages? But that fight’s over,And all that’s done with, and I have to die.FEDELM[Throwing her arms about him.]I will not be put from you, although I thinkI had not grudged it you if some great lady,If the King’s daughter, had set out your bed.I will not give you up to death; no, no!And are not these white arms and this soft neckBetter than the brown earth?SEANCHAN[Struggling to disengage himself.]Begone from me!There’s treachery in those arms and in that voice.They’re all against me. Why do you linger there?How long must I endure the sight of you?FEDELMO, Seanchan! Seanchan!SEANCHAN[Rising.]Go where you will,So it be out of sight and out of mind.I cast you from me like an old torn cap,A broken shoe, a glove without a finger,A crooked penny; whatever is most worthless.FEDELM[Bursts into tears.]O, do not drive me from you!SEANCHAN[Takes her in his arms.]What did I say,My dove of the woods? I was about to curse you.It was a frenzy. I’ll unsay it all.But you must go away.FEDELMLet me be near you.I will obey like any married wife.Let me but lie before your feet.SEANCHANCome nearer.[Kisses her.If I had eaten when you bid me, sweetheart,The kiss of multitudes in times to comeHad been the poorer.[Enter KING from palace, followed by the two PRINCESSESKING[To FEDELM.]Has he eaten yet?FEDELMNo, King, and will not till you have restoredThe right of the poets.KING[Coming down and standing before SEANCHAN.]Seanchan, you have refusedEverybody that I have sent, and nowI come to you myself; and I have comeTo bid you put your pride as far awayAs I have put my pride. I had your loveNot a great while ago, and now you have plannedTo put a voice by every cottage fire,And in the night when no one sees who cries,To cry against me till my throne has crumbled.And yet if I give way I must offendMy courtiers and nobles till they, too,Strike at the crown. What would you have of me?SEANCHANWhen did the poets promise safety, King?KINGSeanchan, I bring you bread in my own hands,And bid you eat because of all these reasons,And for this further reason, that I love you.[Seanchan pushes bread away, with FEDELM’S handYou have refused it, Seanchan?SEANCHANWe have refused it.KINGI have been patient, though I am a king,And have the means to force you. But that’s ended,And I am but a king, and you a subject.Nobles and courtiers, bring the poets hither;[Enter COURT LADIES, MONK, SOLDIER, CHAMBERLAIN, and COURTIERS with PUPILS, who have halters round their necksFor you can have your way. I that was man,With a man’s heart, am now all king again,Remembering that the seed I come of, thoughA hundred kings have sown it and resown it,Has neither trembled nor shrunk backward yetBecause of the hard business of a king.Speak to your master; beg your life of him;Show him the halter that is round your necks.If his heart’s set upon it, he may die;But you shall all die with him.          [Goes up steps.Beg your lives!Begin, for you have little time to lose.Begin it, you that are the oldest pupil.OLDEST PUPILDie, Seanchan, and proclaim the right of the poets.KINGSilence! you are as crazy as your master.But that young boy, that seems the youngest of you,I’d have him speak. Kneel down before him, boy;Hold up your hands to him, that you may pluckThat milky-coloured neck out of the noose.YOUNGEST PUPILDie, Seanchan, and proclaim the right of the poets.OLDEST PUPILGather the halters up into your handsAnd drive us where you will, for in all things,But in our Art, we are obedient.[They hold the ends of the halter towards the KING. The KING comes slowly down stepsKINGKneel down, kneel down; he has the greater power.There is no power but has its root in his —I understand it now. There is no powerBut his that can withhold the crown or give it,Or make it reverend in the eyes of men,And therefore I have laid it in his hands,And I will do his will.[He has put the crown into SEANCHAN’S handsSEANCHAN[Who has been assisted to rise by his pupils.]O crown! O crown!It is but right the hands that made the crownIn the old time should give it where they please.[He places the crown on the KING’S headO silver trumpets! Be you lifted up,And cry to the great race that is to come.Long-throated swans, amid the waves of Time,Sing loudly, for beyond the wall of the worldIt waits, and it may hear and come to us.[The PUPILS blow a trumpet blast.