The world is not run from where he thinks. Not from castle walls, but from countinghouses, not by the call of the bugle but by the click of the abacus, not by the grate and click of the broadsword but by the scrape of the pen.
If you can look into the seeds of time, And say which grain will grow and which will not, speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear Your favours nor your hate.