brian. Get away,
And leave the place to me! It’s my turn now,
For your sack’s empty!
mayor. Is it ‘get away’!
Is that the way I’m to be spoken to!
Am I not Mayor? Amn’t I authority?
Amn’t I in the King’s place? Answer me that!
brian. Then show the people what a king is like:
Pull down old merings and root custom up,
Whitewash the dunghills, fatten hogs and geese,
Hang your gold chain about an ass’s neck,
And burn the blessed thorn trees out of the fields,
And drive what’s comely away!
mayor. Holy Saint Coleman!
first cripple. Fine talk! fine talk!
What else does the King do?
He fattens hogs and hunts the wise man out.
second cripple. He fattens geese.
first cripple. And drives away the swan.
mayor. How dare you take his name into your mouth!
How dare you lift your voice against the King!
What would we be without him?
brian. Why do you praise him?
I will have nobody speak well of him,
