human
My dear son, you know that ripe fruit falls in order to make room for other fruit. This my old head is like ripe fruit and soon the sun will no longer shine upon it. Now before I die I should like to see you happily married. Get you a wife, my son.
gpt
I would, my father, that I could please you in this, the prince answered,
human
Go up into the tower to the very top. There look about you and when you have decided what you like best of all you see, come back and tell me.