[The King and Hans Lorbass come in at the right from above, both unkempt and in rags like two wayfarers. King grown gray, lean, and sallow, comes down forward silent and gloomy.]
Hans Lorbass [with hair grown quite white, and a wooden leg, carrying a sack on his back, calls into the wing]. There, take it, rascal, it is the last! And leave! [Coming down.] The clown has led us twelve whole hours without a path through bushes and morass. He knew well enough why he did it!
King. Dost thou think--
Hans Lorbass. Oh let it be, no matter!
King. Here is a fire. Is there corn in the sack?
Hans Lorbass [opening the sack]. Wait.... Yes.
King. Good! I am hungry.
Hans Lorbass. I am not, too?
King. The corn was dear. Sometimes it costs us money, sometimes blood.
Hans Lorbass. We do not pay the blood.