THE SEBVANT. O king, the guards have already bloodied their swords many times driving him away from the palace gates. But it is of no avail. THE KING. Then bind him and gag him if necessary. If need be cut out his tongue. I do not like the sound of the fellow's voice. It annoys me very much. THE SERVANT. O king, thy orders were obeyed even yesterday. THE KING (_frowning_). No. That cannot be. A beggar cannot cry for bread who has no tongue. THE SERVANT. Behold he can--if he has grown another. THE KING. What! Why, men are not given more than one tongue in a lifetime. To have more than one tongue is treason. THE SERVANT. If it is treason to have more than one tongue, O king, then is this beggar surely guilty of treason. THE KING (_pompously_). The punishment for treason is death. See to it that the fellow is slain. And do not fan me so languidly. I am very warm. THE SERVANT (_fanning more rapidly_). Behold, O great and illustrious king, all thy commands were obeyed even yesterday. THE KING. How! Do not jest with thy king. THE SERVANT. If I jest, then there is truth in a jest. Even yesterday, O king, as I have told thee, the beggar which thou now hearest crying aloud in the street was slain by thy soldiers with a sword. THE KING. Do ghosts eat bread? Forsooth, men who have been slain with a sword do not go about in the streets crying for a piece of bread. THE SERVANT. Forsooth, they do if they are fashioned as this beggar. THE KING. Why, he is but a man. Surely he cannot have more than one life in a lifetime. THE SERVANT. Listen to a tale, O king, which happened yesterday. THE KING. I am listening. THE SERVANT. Thy soldiers smote this beggar for crying aloud in the streets for bread, but his wounds are already healed. They cut out his tongue, but he immediately grew another. They slew him, yet he is now alive. THE KING. Ah! that is a tale which I cannot understand at all. THE SERVANT. O king, it may be well. THE KING. I cannot understand what thou sayest, either. THE SERVANT. O king, that may be well also. THE KING. Thou art speaking now in riddles. I do not like riddles. They confuse my brain. THE SERVANT. Behold, O king, if I speak in riddles it is because a riddle has come to pass. (THE BEGGAR'S _voice suddenly cries out loudly._) THE BEGGAR (_outside_). Bread. Bread. Give me some bread. THE KING. Ah! He is crying out again. His voice seems to me louder than it was before. THE SERVANT. Hunger is as food to the lungs, O king. THE KING. His lungs I will wager are well fed. Ha, ha! THE SERVANT. But alas! his stomach is quite empty. THE KING. That is not my business. THE SERVANT. Should I not perhaps fling him a crust from the window? THE KING. No! To feed a beggar is always foolish. Every crumb that is given to a beggar is an evil seed from which springs another fellow like him. THE BEGGAR (_outside_). Bread. Bread. Give me some bread. THE SERVANT. He seems very hungry, O king. THE KING. Yes. So I should judge.