And yet if I give way I must offend
My courtiers and nobles till they, too,
Strike at the crown. What would you have of me?
SEANCHAN.
When did the poets promise safety, King?
KING.
Seanchan, I bring you bread in my own hands,
And bid you eat because of all these reasons,
And for this further reason, that I love you.
[Seanchan pushes bread away, with FEDELM’S hand.