Which, think, you, would say, Turn back, Prince Charming! Give it up!
Mentor.
All! Every mother’s son of them!
The Prince.
Not one! Not one protoplasmic atomy of one!
[At this challenge the Fragments of Kings’ Sons become endowed with the powers of life. The Hands applaud, clap the Prince on the back, or shake hands with him, the Legs dance, and indeed the ruder of these buffet Mentor, one going so far as to kick his hat off. The Torso inclines itself approvingly, the Heads bow, and many Voices cry “Go forward, Prince Charming! Persevere to the end!”]
The Prince.
You hear? [To Mentor.] I thank you, comrades, or fragments of comrades; I thank you with all my heart!
Mentor.