I create me a world wherein is neither hunger nor stripes, a world
of joy and laughter, for, blessed within his dreams, even a fool may
walk with gods and juggle with the stars!"

"Aye," nodded Beltane, "but how when he awake?"

"Why then, messire," laughed the fellow, leaping nimbly to his feet,
"why then doth he ask alms of thee, as thus: Prithee most noble
messire, of thy bounty show kindness to a fool that lacks everything
but wit. So give, messire, give and spare not, so may thy lady prove
kind, thy wooing prosper and love strengthen thee."

Now when the jester spake of love, my Beltane must needs sigh amain and
shake a doleful head.

"Alas!" said he, "within my life shall be no place for love, methinks."

"Heigho!" sighed the jester, "thy very look doth proclaim thee lover,
and 'tis well, for love maketh the fool wise and the wise fool, it
changeth saints into rogues and rogues into saints, it teacheth the
strong man gentleness and maketh the gentle strong. 'Tis sweeter than
honey yet bitter as gall--Love! ah, love can drag a man to hell or lift
him high as heaven!"

"Aye verily," sighed Beltane, "I once did dream of such a love, but now
am I awake, nor will I dream of love again, nor rest whiles Lust and
Cruelty rule this sorrowful Duchy--"

"Ha, what would ye then, fond youth?"

"I am come to smite them hence," said Beltane, clenching mighty fists.

"How?" cried the jester, wide of eye. "Alone?"

"Nay, methinks God goeth with me. Moreover, I have this sword!" and
speaking, Beltane touched the hilt of the great blade at his side.

"What--a sword!" scoffed the jester, "think ye to mend the woes of thy
fellows with a sword? Go to, thou grave-visaged, youthful fool! I tell
thee, 'tis only humour and good fellowship can mend this wretched
world, and there is nought so lacking in humour as a sword--unless it
be your prating priest or mumbling monk. A pope in cap and bells, now--
aha, there would be a world indeed, a world of joy and laughter! No
more gloom, no more bans and damnings of Holy Church, no more groaning
and snivelling in damp cloister and mildewed chapel, no more burnings
and hangings and rackings--"

"Yet," said Beltane, shaking his head, "yet would kings and dukes
remain, Christian knights and godly lords to burn and hang and rack the
defenceless."

"Aye, Sir Gravity," nodded the jester, "but the Church is paramount
ever; set the pope a-blowing of tunes upon a reed and kings would lay
by