FIRST SOLDIER [within]. Go in there.
[Several Soldiers enter.
SECOND SOLDIER. Here he is.
CLARIN. He's not.
ALL THE SOLDIERS. Great lord!
CLARIN [aside]. Are the fellows mad or tipsy?
FIRST SOLDIER. Thou art our own Prince, and we
Will not have, and won't admit of,
Any but our natural Prince;
We no foreign Prince here wish for.
Let us kneel and kiss thy feet.
THE SOLDIERS. Live, long live our best of Princes!
CLARIN [aside.] 'Gad! the affair grows rather serious.
Is it usual in this kingdom
To take some one out each day,
Make him Prince, and then remit him
To this tower? It must be so,
Since each day that sight I witness.
I must therefore play my part.
SOLDIERS. Thy feet give us!
CLARIN. I can't give them,
As I want them for myself.
For a prince to be a cripple
Would be rather a defect.