"Ay," said the Prince, "and thankful for the chance.
So thankful, that these bags of gold shall buy
Leave for all comers to be glad as I.
And yet, I know not if the Court permits.
King's pleasures must be sifted through the wits
Or want of wit of many a courtly brain.
I get the lees and chokings of the drain,
Not the bright rippling that I perish for."
King Cole:
Sir, I will open the forbidden door,
Which, opened, they will enter all in haste.
The life of man is stronger than good taste.
The Prince:
Custom is stronger than the life of man.
King Cole:
Custom is but a way that life began.
The Prince:
A withering way that makes the leafage fall,
Custom, like Winter, is the King of all.
King Cole: