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:_ Winter makes water solid, yet the spring, That is but flowers, is a stronger thing. Custom, the ass man rides, will plod for years, But laughter kills him and he dies at tears. One word of love, one spark from beauty's fire, And custom is a memory; listen, sire. Then at a window looking on the street He played his flute like leaves or snowflakes falling, Till men and women, passing, thought: "How sweet; These notes are in our hearts like flowers falling." And then, they thought, "An unknown voice is calling Like April calling to the seed in earth; Madness is quickening deadness into birth." And then, as in the spring when first men hear, Beyond the black-twigged hedge, the lambling's cry Coming across the snow, a note of cheer Before the storm-cock tells that spring is nigh, Before the first green bramble pushes shy, And all the blood leaps at the lambling's notes, The piping brought men's hearts into their throats. Till all were stirred, however old and grand; Generals bestarred, old statesmen, courtiers prim (Whose lips kissed nothing but the Monarch's hand), Stirred in their courtly minds recesses dim, The sap of life stirred in the dreary limb. The old eyes brightened o'er the pouncet-box, Remembering loves, and brawls, and mains of cocks. And through the town the liquid piping's gladness Thrilled on its way, rejoicing all who heard, To thrust aside their dullness or their sadness And follow blithely as the fluting stirred They hurried to the guild like horses spurred. There in the road they mustered to await, They knew not what, a dream, a joy, a fate. And man to man in exaltation cried: "Something has come to make us young again. Wisdom has come, and Beauty, Wisdom's bride, And youth like flowering April after rain." But still the fluting piped and men were fain To sing and ring the bells, they knew not why Save that their hearts were in an ecstasy. Then to the balcony above them came King Cole the shining in his robe of flame; Behind him came the Prince, who smiled and bowed. King Cole made silence: then addressed the crowd.