I will hold out the dish and cup for him

      While you are speaking to him of his folly,

      If you desire it, Princess.

      No, Finula

      Will carry him the dish and I the cup.

      We’ll offer them ourselves.

      They are so gracious;

      The dear little Princesses are so gracious.

      Although she is holding out her hand to him,

      He will not kiss it.

      My father bids us say

      That, though he cannot have you at his table,

      You may ask any other thing you like

      And he will give it you. We carry you

      With our own hands a dish and cup of wine.

      O, look! he has taken it! He has taken it!

      The dear Princesses! I have always said

      That nobody could refuse them anything.

      O long, soft fingers and pale finger-tips,

      Well worthy to be laid in a king’s hand!

      O, you have fair white hands, for it is certain

      There is uncommon whiteness in these hands.

      But there is something comes into my mind,

      Princess. A little while before your birth,

      I saw your mother sitting by the road

      In a high chair; and when a leper passed,

      She pointed him the way into the town.

      He lifted up his hand and blessed her hand —

      I saw it with my own eyes. Hold out your hands;

      I will find out if they are contaminated,

      For it has come into my thoughts that maybe

      The King has sent me food and drink by hands

      That are contaminated. I would see all your hands.

      You’ve eyes of dancers; but hold out your hands,

      For it may be there are none sound among you.

      He has called us lepers.

      He’s out of his mind,

      And does not know the meaning of what he said.

      There’s no sound hand among you – no sound hand.

      Away with you! away with all of you!

      You are all lepers! There is leprosy

      Among the plates and dishes that you have carried.

      And wherefore have you brought me leper’s wine?

      There, there! I have given it to you again. And now

      Begone, or I will give my curse to you.

      You have the leper’s blessing, but you think

      Maybe the bread will something lack in savour

      Unless you mix my curse into the dough.

      Where did I say the leprosy had come from?

      I said it came out of a leper’s hand,

      And that he walked the highway. But that’s folly,

      For he was walking up there in the sky.

      And there he is even now, with his white hand

      Thrust out of the blue air, and blessing them

      With leprosy.

      He’s pointing at the moon

      That’s coming out up yonder, and he calls it

      Leprous, because the daylight whitens it.

      He’s holding up his hand above them all —

      King, noblemen, princesses – blessing all.

      Who could imagine he’d have so much patience?

      Come out of this!

      If you don’t need it, sir,

      May we not carry some of it away?

      Who’s speaking? Who are you?

      Come out of this!

      Have pity on us, that must beg our bread

      From table to table throughout the entire world,

      And yet be hungry.

      But why were you born crooked?

      What bad poet did your mothers listen to

      That you were born so crooked?

      Come away!

      Maybe he’s cursed the food, and it might kill us.

      Yes, better come away.

      He has great strength

      And great patience to hold his right hand there,

      Uplifted, and not wavering about.

      He is much stronger than I am, much stronger.

      Say nothing! I will get him out of this

      Before I have said a word of food and drink;

      For while he is on this threshold and can hear,

      It may be, the voices that made mock of him,

      He would not listen. I’d be alone with him.

      Seanchan! Seanchan!

      Can you not hear me, Seanchan?

      It