HAZAEL: 
    Naaman can do nothing without the command of the King; and
      the King fears to order the army to march without the
      approval of the gods.  The High Priest is against it.  The
      House of Rimmon is for peace with Asshur.

RAKHAZ: 
    Yes, and all the nobles are for peace.  We are the men whose
      wisdom lights the rudder that upholds the chariot of state. 
      Would we be rich if we were not wise?  Do we not know better
      than the rabble what medicine will silence this fire that
      threatens to drown us?

IZDUBHAR: 
    But if the Assyrians come, we shall all perish; they will
      despoil us all.

HAZAEL: 
    Not us, my lord, only the common people.  The envoys have
      offered favourable terms to the priests, and the nobles,
      and the King.  No palace, no temple, shall be plundered. 
      Only the shops, and the markets, and the houses of the
      multitude shall be given up to the Bull.  He will eat
      his supper from the pot of lentils, not from our golden
      plate.

RAKHAZ: 
    Yes, and all who speak for peace in the council shall be
      enriched; our heads shall be crowned with seats of honour
      in the procession of the Assyrian king.  He needs wise
      counsellors to help him guide the ship of empire onto the
      solid rock of prosperity.  You must be with us, my lords
      Izdubhar and Saballidin, and let the stars of your wisdom
      roar loudly for peace.

IZDUBHAR: 
    He talks like a tablet read upside down,—­a wild ass braying
      in the wilderness.  Yet there is policy in his words.

SABALLIDIN: 
    I know not.  Can a kingdom live without a people or an army? 
      If we let the Bull in to sup on the lentils, will he not
      make his breakfast in our vineyards?

[Enter other courtiers following SHUMAKIM, a hump-backed
jester, in blue, green and red, a wreath of poppies
around his neck and a flagon in his hand.  He walks
unsteadily, and stutters in his speech.]

HAZAEL: 
    Here is Shumakim, the King’s fool, with his legs full of
      last night’s wine.

SHUMAKIM:  [Balancing himself in front of them and chuckling.]
    Wrong, my lords, very wrong!  This is not last night’s wine,
      but a draught the King’s physician gave me this morning
      for a cure.  It sobers me amazingly!  I know you all,
      my lords:  any fool would know you.  You, master, are a
      statesman; and you are a politician; and you are a patriot.

RAKHAZ: 
    Am I a statesman?  I felt something of the kind about me. 
      But what is a statesman?

SHUMAKIM: 
    A politician that is stuffed with big words; a fat man in a
      mask; one that plays a solemn tune on a sackbut full o’ wind.