[_Taking another paper._] A wealthy husbandman Begs Franz to give him back his daughter's love Which a Bohemian glass-blower has stolen. [_Handing back the paper._] You'll wed your child to her Bohemian lover. THE HUSBANDMAN. But-- THE EMPEROR. I'll endow him. THE CHAMBERLAIN. Name? THE HUSBANDMAN. Johannes Schmoll. I kiss your hands. THE EMPEROR. [_Taking another paper._] "A shepherd of the Tyrol, A friendless orphan, robbed of all his land, Driven from his homestead by his father's foes, Yearns for his native woods and skies"--how touching!-- "And his paternal meadow." 'Tis restored. THE CHAMBERLAIN. What is the shepherd's name, who asks for help? THE SHEPHERD. The Duke of Reichstadt! And the meadow's France! THE EMPEROR. [_To the_ PETITIONERS.] Begone! [_All go._] What's this? THE DUKE. It seems if I were only A mountain shepherd or a forester, With nothing to attract your notice, Sire, Save a cock's feather in my huntsman's hat, You would have drawn me to your melting heart. THE EMPEROR. But Franz--! THE DUKE. Ah, now I know why all your subjects, All those who are unhappy, call themselves Your sons as much as we; but is it just, Sire, is it just, that I, when I'm unhappy, Have less of kinship than the least of these? THE EMPEROR. But why just now--for I must scold you, sir-- When I was busy with these wretched people-- Why come to me just now, and not in private? THE DUKE. I wished to find you when your heart was open. THE EMPEROR. My heart--my heart!--You're somewhat over-bold! THE DUKE. I know that you can do the thing I ask, That I am wretched almost past endurance, And that you are my Grandfather--that's all. THE EMPEROR. But there is Europe--England--above all, There's Metternich. THE DUKE. You are my Grandfather. THE EMPEROR. You don't know half the difficulties. THE DUKE. But I am the grandson of your Majesty. THE EMPEROR. But-- THE DUKE. Sire, in whom alone I place my trust, Be Grandfather a little while! THE EMPEROR. But I-- THE DUKE. Just for a moment drop the Emperor. THE EMPEROR. Ah, what a coaxing way you always had. THE DUKE. You know I cannot bear you when you look Like the great portrait hanging in the throne-room, With the ermine cloak and Golden Fleece upon you; But here, like this, I like you very much. With the dear silver of your floating hair, Your kindly eyes, your simple coat and waistcoat; For now you're just a dear old gentleman, By whom a grandchild might be petted. THE EMPEROR. Petted! THE DUKE. Are you not bored to see the heavy jowls Of Louis-Philip on the coins of France? THE EMPEROR. Hush! hush! THE DUKE.