No More Learning

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!