Something
about the King.
Yeats
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!
