We have begged and it has been in vain. Our sin has found us out. Who can conquer our ignorance?
Why are we born, since now it seems better to die?
What should we do and why should we do it?
We cannot attain to ability and we sway and stagger like a man who stands in a hot bath,
Or one who yawns from the fumes of a reeking opium pipe.
This parish dreams and is like a people who, like a nation of hens
Ranged on the ramparts of the quay, watch how the red sun drops away into a night that knows no day....
(Pause.
The First Watcher: Such is the report that we have to make to you.
The King: Wretched nonentities! He is a fool who puts his trust in you!