monk. Let go my habit!
seanchan. Have you persuaded him
To chirp between two dishes when the King
Sits down to table?
monk. Let go my habit, sir!
[Crosses to centre of stage.
seanchan. And maybe he has learned 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.
