(The Curtain rises upon King Argimenes, sitting upon the ground,
bowed, ragged, and dirty, gnawing a bone. He has uncouth hair and a
dishevelled beard. A battered spade lies near him. Two or three slaves
sit at back of stage eating raw cabbage-leaves. The tear-song, the
chaunt of the low-born, rises at intervals, monotonous and mournful,
coming from distant slave-fields.)

KING ARGIMENES This is a good bone; there is juice in this bone.

ZARB I wish I were you, Argimenes.

KING ARGIMENES I am not to be envied any longer. I have eaten up my
bone.

ZARB I wish I were you, because you have been a King. Because men
have prostrated themselves before your feet. Because you have ridden a
horse and worn a crown and have been called Majesty.

KING ARGIMENES When I remember that I have been a king it is very
terrible.

ZARB But you are lucky to have such things in your memory as you have.
I have nothing in my memory--Once I went for a year without being
flogged, and I remember my cleverness in contriving it--I have nothing
else to remember.

KING ARGIMENES It is very terrible to have been a king.