No, none at all, thank goodness.
What does it say, then?
King, it says "I exist." Don't you know the meaning of the first cry of the new-born child? The child, when it is born, hears at once the cries of the earth and water and sky, which surround him,—and they all cry to him, "We exist," and his tiny little heart responds, and cries out in its turn, "I exist." My poetry is like the cry of that new-born child. It is a response to the cry of the Universe.
Is it nothing more than that, Poet?
No, nothing more. There is life in my song, which cries, "In joy and in sorrow, in work and in rest, in life and in death, in victory and in defeat, in this world and in the next, all hail to the 'I exist.'"
Well, Poet, I can assure you, if your play hasn't got any philosophy in it, it won't pass muster in these days.
That's true, King. The newer people, of this modern age, are more eager to amass than to realize. They are, in their generation, wiser than the children of light.
Whom shall we ask, then, for an audience? Shall we ask the young students of our royal school?
No, King, they cut up poetry with their logic. They are like the young-horned deer trying their new horns on the flower-beds.
Whom should I ask, then?