There is no ante-chamber in this royal palace,
There are no waiting-rooms of haughty state:
No chamberlain austere, no courtiers puff’d with malice,
To shut us out from where the King doth wait—
The new-born King, unscepter’d and uncrown’d,
In swaddling-bands of lowly linen bound.
Open and wide to all, are these old palace-portals—
The very beasts have found their way therein.