Seven Poems and a Fragment

KING.

Take up his body.
Go where you please and lay it where you please,
So that I cannot see his face or any
That cried him towards his death.

YOUNGEST PUPIL.

Dead faces laugh! The ancient right is gone, the new remains
And that is death.
(They go towards the king holding out their halters)

We are impatient men, So gather up the halters in your hands.

KING.

Drive them away.
(He goes into the palace. The soldiers block the way before the pupils.)

SOLDIER.

Here is no place for you, For he and his pretensions now are finished.
Begone before the men at arms are bidden
To hurl you