In the middle of the biggest party he’s ever thrown, he finds that his time on the throne is being measured in days. He’s heard of kings whose reign had lasted for only a few days, but he didn’t want to believe he’d become one of them – a king to be laughed at, because if a king’s rule is counted in days, then he really isn’t a king at all and more like the figurehead of a shipwrecked boat.
He finds that his morals are measured by weight and not by scales, because the good that comes from a person can never ‘undo’ the bad, or vice versa. He finds that he’s a lightweight, and sweat begins to form on the edge of his brow.
He doesn’t need a mathematician to tell him that these two measures added up equal the division of his kingdom, but even so, he has to see it to believe, so he continues to pour the wine, and measures his life in cups.