K. My sweet Prince, when you are king you must appoint me court jester. Will you, my good Lord? We two are good contrasts: You full of dignity upon a royal throne, a golden crown upon your head, the scepter in your hand, and I dressed in motley with cap and bells. Heigh ho! That will be jolly. And after all we are so much alike!
B. A royal crown shall never grace my head.
K. And why should it not, sweet Prince?
B. I have a higher aim, a greater mission.
What is a kingdom? What are wealth and power?
What crown and scepter? They are transient things,
I yearn for the Immortal state, Nirvana.
K. Then wilt thou be a Buddha? Oh, even then will I follow thee.
He kneels down with clasped hands.
Wilt thou a holy Buddha be,
O keep me in thy company
Though I'm a jester. I'll be good.
Let me attain beatitude.
B. Rise Kala, rise, I am a mortal man,
I'm not omniscient, nor have I yet
Attained the goal of goals, enlightenment.—
Tell me, why dost thou think we are alike?
K. My Lord, you have no ambition to be a king; you think the world is full of vanity, and you consider that life and its glory will pass away. That is exactly what I think. I agree with you. Only, you are of a serious disposition and take the matter to heart, while I think it is great fun. What is the use of thinking so much. We are all like bubbles: we float in the air, and then the bubble bursts and this life is over. I am now a poor boy. I fear no change. In a future incarnation I may be born as the son of a king, like you. And think of it, after a few million years, this whole world, this big bulky stupid institution, this home of so many villains, and a couple of good ones like us two among them, the theater of rascalities, of vanities, of follies, will be scattered to the winds, as if it had never existed. Be merry, my Prince, so long as the comedy lasts.