that song that we always sing? I like the song.
ZARB It has no name. It is our song. There is no other song.
KING ARGIMĒNĒS Once there were other songs. Has this no name?
ZARB I think the soldiers have a name for it.
KING ARGIMĒNĒS What do the soldiers call it?
ZARB The soldiers call it the tear-song, the chaunt of the low-born.
KING ARGIMĒNĒS It is a good song. I could sing no other now. (Zarb moves away digging.)
KING ARGIMĒNĒS (to himself as his spade touches something in the earth.) Metal! (Feels with his spade again.) Gold perhaps! — It is of no use here. (uncovers earth leisurely. Suddenly he drops on his knees and works excitedly in the earth with his hands. Then very slowly, still kneeling, he lifts, lying flat on his hands, a long greenish sword, his eyes intent on it. About the level of his uplifted forehead he holds it, still flat on both hands, and addresses it thus:)
O holy and blessed thing. (Then he lowers it slowly till his hands rest on his knees, and looking all the while at the sword.)
KING ARGIMĒNĒS Three years ago tomorrow King Darniak spat at me, having taken my
