Baz. Nay, princess—
Mir. (Fiercely) Her Majesty!
Baz. (Sneers) You prize the feather when the cap is lost?
(To the Empress) Pardon a slipping tongue, your Majesty.
Those troops you speak of go with me to France.
Such is my order—such the firm demand
Of the United States.
Car. Is France a province
Of the United States? Napoleon
Page, lackey, footboy to America?
Is she an Empire, he an Emperor?
Or have we dreamed he is Napoleon?
Max. (Recovered from his bewilderment)
Withdraw his troops! He can not—dare not do it!
’T would blister history’s page to set it down,
And ’t is his burning wish to be the star
Of human chronicles. I ’ll not believe it,
Though all my senses brand confirming yea
Upon my mind. O shout it in my ears,
And let me see the troops go marching out,
Still I ’ll believe it is my eyes and ears
That mutiny, not France turned traitor!
Baz. Your Majesty, you must believe the truth,
And make you ready for a swift departure.
’T will not be safe here let a moon go by.
Max. If danger ’s here, then here I stay to share it.
Dost think I ’ll leave my friends to die alone
While I by flight dishonor Majesty?
Baz. ’T is death to stay. You would not be so mad.
Mir. Hail to our new-born king! New-born thou art
Unto our love. Nay, we did love before,
But now we ’ll worship thee.
Car. Napoleon!
You shall not do this monstrous thing! You shall not!