PRINCE. In a word (_turning hastily to the portrait, and giving it to_ Marinelli)--there! is it this Emilia Galotti? Pronounce again those damning words, "the same," and plunge a dagger in my heart. MARINELLI. The same. PRINCE. Traitor! This? this Emilia Galotti--will to-day be---- MARINELLI. The Countess Appiani. (_The_ Prince _seizes the portrait from the hands of_ Marinelli, _and flings it aside_.)--The marriage will be celebrated privately at her father's villa, in Sabionetta. About noon the mother and daughter, the Count, and perhaps a few friends, will leave town together. PRINCE (_throwing himself in a state of desperation into a chair_). Then I am lost, and care no more for life. MARINELLI. What thus affects your Highness? PRINCE (_starting towards him again_). Traitor! what affects me thus? Yes, in truth, I love her! I adore her! You may, perhaps, know it, may even long have known it; all of you who desire that I should wear for ever the ignominious fetters of the proud Orsina. That you, Marinelli, who have so often assured me of your sincere friendship--but a Prince has no friend, can have no friend--that you should act so treacherously, so deceitfully, as to conceal till this moment the peril which threatened my love.--Oh, if ever I forgive you this, let no sin of mine be pardoned! MARINELLI. I could scarcely find words, Prince, to express my astonishment--even if you gave me the opportunity. You love Emilia Galotti? Hear, then, my oath in reply to yours. If I have ever known or suspected this attachment in the slightest degree, may the angels and saints abandon me! I repeat the same imprecation for Orsina. Her suspicions were directed to a wholly different quarter. PRINCE. Pardon me, then, Marinelli (_throwing himself into his arms_), and pity me. MARINELLI. Well, yes, Prince. There see the consequence of your reserve. "A prince has no friends." And why? Because he will have none. To-day you honour us with your confidence, entrust to us your most secret wishes, open your whole soul to us--and to-morrow we are as perfect strangers to you, as if you had never exchanged a word with us. PRINCE. Alas, Marinelli, how could I entrust a secret to you which I would scarcely confess to myself? MARINELLI. And, which you have, therefore, of course, not confessed to the author of your uneasiness? PRINCE. To her!--All my endeavours have been fruitless to speak with her a second time. MARINELLI. And the first time---- PRINCE.