Poor, morbid child, we will suppress whatever Too much reminds you who your father was. THE DUKE. Then you must root up every violet, Drive every single bee out of your park! THE EMPEROR. Change all the servants! METTERNICH. I'll dismiss them all: Otto, Fritz, Hermann, Albrecht-- THE DUKE. Close the shutters, Lest yonder star remind me of my father's. THE EMPEROR. And as for Dietrichstein, I'll sign at once New regulations-- [_To_ METTERNICH.] Write. METTERNICH. Where is the ink? THE DUKE. My inkstand's on the table; you may use it. METTERNICH. Where? I see nothing! THE DUKE. The Minerva's head, In bronze and marble. METTERNICH. Still I cannot see it. THE DUKE. Then take the other, made of burnished gold, On yonder console-- METTERNICH. Where? THE EMPEROR. What inkstands? THE DUKE. Sire, Those which my father left me. THE EMPEROR. What do you mean? THE DUKE. Yes! in his testament! And there, the pistols, Four pistols of Versailles. Take them away. THE EMPEROR. [_Bringing his fist down on the table._] What's this? THE DUKE. You must not hit the table, Sire! Now you've knocked down the sword he wore as Consul! THE EMPEROR. These things you speak of-- THE DUKE. Are before my eyes! "They are to be surrendered to my son When he has reached sixteen." Despite the crime Which holds them back, they're mine: I have their soul! The soul of every cross, of every jewel, And all is here: the three mahogany caskets, And all the snuff-boxes, and all the spurs, The golden garter-buckles and the gorgets, I've all! The iron sword, the enamelled sword, The sword in which a never-setting sun Has left its fires imprisoned, so that none May dare to draw it lest the sun leap forth; I have the sword-belts also, all the six! THE EMPEROR. Silence! THE DUKE. "To be surrendered to my son When he has reached sixteen." Oh, Father, sleep. For I have all; even your uniforms. Oh, yes! To you my uniform looks white-- Well, it's not true--it's false--I am pretending! Father, behold, it's blue and red, behold! Colonel? Not so! Lieutenant in your Guard! By the device your soldiers bore I know it, Father, who gave me victories for sisters! 'Twas not in vain you wished me to possess The alarm-clock of King Frederick of Prussia, Which you magnificently stole from Potsdam, For here it is! 'Tis ticking in my brain! It is the clock which wakes me every morning, Drives me exhausted by my midnight toil Back to my narrow table, to my toil, To be more fit by night-fall for the throne! THE EMPEROR.