And fare as badly. Come, boy, that’s no use;
[He lifts the Boy up.
If it seem well that we beseech the King,
Lay down your harps and trumpets on the stones
In silence and come with me silently.
Come with slow footfalls and bow all your heads,
For a bowed head becomes a mourner best.
[They lay the harps and trumpets down one by one and then go out very
solemnly and slowly, following one another.
Cian.