The Marquis tapped his snuffbox for effect.
‘Your majesty,’ he said, ‘the poor can die
by thousands. Nothing changes. You and I
get ill and die – there’s no one to protect
the country’s borders; no one to employ
all of our servants -that means they would starve.
Perhaps you’ve seen how icebergs melt- they calve
into weak fragments. Those who would destroy
all order shatter first our right to rule
with petty quibbles, say we spend too much,
on banquests, rape their wives. To yield to such
weakens us. If you do it, you’re a fool.’
Men hanged the Marquis slowly until dead.
Showed mercy to the king, chopped off his head.