in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem.And find it weariness to cross the room.

Might I not set provision for old age

Against your vineyard? Might I settle on you

A pension that would bring you quietness

And what age loves, respect and ease and state;

Might we not give you rank, as Elder, say,

With pay and servants fitting to the rank;

These things to be assured to you for life,

And after, to your son?

Naboth.

Naboth.

I have no son.

My son was killed while fighting for King Ahab

In this last war. I will not sell my vineyard

For all the rank, for all the slaves and ease

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