Sweet heady wine. . . . But now I understand;
You would refute me out of my own mouth;
And yet a place at council, near the King,
Is nothing of great moment, Seanchan.
How does so light a thing touch poetry?
seanchan. At Candlemas you called this poetry
One of the fragile, mighty things of God,
That die at an insult.
oldest pupil [to other pupils]. Give me some true answer,
Upon that day he spoke about the Court
And called it the first comely child of the world,
And said that all that was insulted there
The world insulted, for the Courtly life
Is the world’s model. How shall I answer him?
Can you not give me some true argument?
I will not tempt him with a lying one.
youngest pupil. O, tell him that the lovers of his music
Have need of him.
seanchan. But I am labouring
For some that shall be born in the nick o’ time,
And find sweet nurture, that they may have voices,
