_Cian._ Maybe. But the King’s messengers have gone for one That will persuade him. [_To BRIAN._] Come, let us go; For she might lose her way in this fine place. Come, we have been too long upon the tree, [_Plucking sleeve of MAYOR._ And there are little golden pippins here. _Soldier._ Give me the dish, I’ll hand it him myself. _Aileen._ I wonder if she is pretty. [_MAYOR and SERVANTS have gone out._ _Soldier._ Eat this, old hedgehog. Sniff up the savour 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. _Chamberlain._ Don’t answer, you were never to his mind. And now you have angered him to no good purpose. But put the dish down and I will speak to him. _Seanchan._ You must needs 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 would only eat out of this dish The King would show how much he honours you. _Aileen._ [_Giving CRIPPLE money._] You are always discontented. Look at this cripple, He has had to cover up his eyes with rags Because they are too weak to look at the sun, And has a crooked body, and yet he is cheerful. Stand there where he can see you. [_CRIPPLE goes over and stands in front of SEANCHAN, bowing and smiling._ _Chamberlain._ We have come to you Because we wish you a long, prosperous life; Who could imagine you’d so take to heart Being put from the high table. _Seanchan._ It was not I That you have driven away from the high table, But the images of them that weave a dance, By the four rivers in the mountain garden. _Monk._ He means we have driven poetry away. _Chamberlain._ It is the men who are learned in the laws, Or have led the King’s armies that should sit At the King’s table. Nor has poetry Been altogether driven away, 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.