Imps (all): What ho, your majesty!
Lucifer Match: Assemble ye here for a council of war.
Imps (all): Your Majesty’s commands shall be obeyed.
(Imps gather down stage and seat themselves Indian fashion in a circle—the King remains standing.)
Lucifer Match (addressing Imps): My mind is ill at ease—Go where I will, I fail not to observe how men, in city, town, and hamlet throughout the land, in fealty to Him they call the Christ, are moved to deeds of mercy and of love.
Imp No. 1: If such be true, Your Majesty, it bodes ill of thee and thy kingdom of darkness.
Lucifer Match: Yea, such is true, and not content with that, they move from street to street, and house to house, and, like the angels on Bethlehem hills, two thousand years ago, they proclaim the Messiah’s birth, and sing of Peace and Goodwill to Men. Thus do they assail and threaten my right to reign and rule.
Imp No. 1: It must not be, Your Majesty.
Lucifer Match: It shall not be—some way must be found to stop these inroads upon my kingdom and domain—but what to do, and how, and when, I know not.