DRUID.
What would you, king of the proud Red Branch kings?
FERGUS.
I’d put away the foolish might of a king,
But learn the dreaming wisdom that is yours.
DRUID.
Look on my thin gray hair and hollow cheeks,
And on these hands that may not lift the sword,
This body trembling like a wind-blown reed.
No maiden loves me, no man seeks my help,