No More Learning

MONK.

Let go my habit, sir!

[_Crosses to centre of stage. _

SEANCHAN.

And maybe he has learnt to sing quite softly
Because loud singing would disturb the King,
Who is sitting drowsily among his friends
After the table has been cleared. Not yet!

[_SEANCHAN has been dragged some feet clinging to the
MONK'S habit. _

You did not think that hands so full of hunger
Could hold you tightly. They are not civil yet.
I'd know if you have taught him to eat bread
From 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 king
Is often weary, and he needs a God
To 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 bird. _

A little God,
With comfortable feathers, and bright eyes.

FIRST GIRL.

There 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 GIRL.

Hush! he is looking at us.

SEANCHAN.

Yes, 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 mouths
In the slow smiling that awakens love.
The mothers that have borne you mated rightly.
They'd little ears as thirsty as your ears
For many love songs.