Hud. His Excellency
Is Governor of Peonia——
Her. In Goldusan!
Hud. And smoothed my road there——
Meg. Nay, your majesty,
My aid was but a garnish on the might
That moves with your own name.
Hud. Between us then,
We saved my holdings through a bluster there.
And what they brought me I've tossed here to make
This smile on winter.
Meg. What? You gave her all?
Her. How, sir? One word of mine would robe a world.
And my whole self not worth a little spot
Twitched from Spring's garment?
Meg. Oh, I'd grind the stars
To imperial dust that you might trample them,—
But this—this was a fortune!
[To Hudibrand] Sir, 'tis true
You care not for the gold.
Hud. I care for it
As men of hero times held dear the sword
That made them lords of battle.
Her. You are lord
Of Peace!