text: And sometimes ten. He'd speak of kings and grand
    Moguls and naught but greatness. Then he'd say:
    "Give me a three-legged table and a tray
    Of good clean salt, and just a coarse-wove gown
    To keep the cold out." If you paid him down
    (So sparing and content!) a million cool,
    In five short days he'd be a penceless fool.