The Gateway of a Castle. Elizabeth and her suite standing at the top of a flight of steps. Mob below.
Peas. Bread! Bread! Bread! give us bread; we perish.
1st Voice. Ay, give, give, give! God knows, we’re long past earning.
2d Voice. Our skeleton children lie along in the roads—
3d Voice. Our sheep drop dead about the frozen leas—
4th Voice. Our harness and our shoes are boiled for food—
Old Man’s Voice. Starved, withered, autumn hay that thanks the scythe!
Send out your swordsmen, mow the dry bents down,
And make this long death short—we’ll never struggle.
All. Bread! Bread!
Eliz. Ay, bread—Where is it, knights and servants?
Why butler, seneschal, this food forthcomes not!
Butler. Alas, we’ve eaten all ourselves: heaven knows
The pages broke the buttery hatches down—
The boys were starved almost.