ually get into their
places. Cuchullain sits in his great chair with certain of the young
men standing around him. Others of the young men, however, remain with
Daire at the ale vat. Daire holds out the horn of ale to one or two
of the older Kings as they pass him going to their places. They pass
him by, most of them silently refusing.)

DAIRE.

Will you not drink?

AN OLD KING.

Not till the council's over.

A YOUNG KING.

But I'll drink, Daire.

ANOTHER YOUNG KING.

Fill me a horn too, Daire.

ANOTHER YOUNG KING.

If I'd drunk half that you have drunk to-day,
I'd be upon all fours.

DAIRE.

That would be natural
When Mother Earth had given you this good milk
From her great breasts.

CUCHULLAIN.

(To one of the young Kings beside him)

One is content awhile
With a soft warm woman who folds up our lives
In silky network. Then, one knows not why,
But one's away after a flinty heart.

THE YOUNG KING.

How long can the net keep us?

CUCHULLAIN.

All our lives
If there are children, and a dozen moons
If there are none, because a growing child
Has so much need of watching it can make
A passion that's as changeable as the sea
Change till it holds the wide earth to its heart.
At least I have heard a father say it, but I
Being childless do not know it. Come nearer yet;
Though he is ringing that old silver rod
We'll have our own talk out. They cannot hear us.

(Concobar who is now seated in his great chair, opposite Cuchullain,
beats upon the pillar of the house that is nearest to him with a rod
of silver, till the Kings have become silent. Cuchullain alone
continues to talk in a low voice to those about him, but not so loud
as to disturb the silence. Concobar rises and speaks standing.)

CONCOBAR.

I have called you hither, Kings of Ullad, and Kings
Of Muirthemne and Connall Muirthemne,
And tributary Kings, for now there is peace--
It's time to build up Emain that was burned
At the outsetting of these wars; for we,
Being the foremost men, should have high chairs
And be much stared at and wondered at, and speak
Out of more laughing overflowing hearts
Than common men. It is the art of kings
To make what's noble nobler in men's eyes
By wide uplifted roofs, where beaten gold,
That's r