No, no, this can be no publick Road that's certain: I am lost, quite lost indeed. Of what Advantage is it now to be a King? Night shews me no Respect: I cannot see better, nor walk so well as another Man. What is a King? Is he not wiser than another Man? Not without his Counsellors I plainly find. Is he not more powerful? I oft have been told so, indeed, but what now can my Power command? Is he not greater and more magnificent? When seated on his Throne, and surrounded with Nobles and Flatterers, perhaps he may think so, but when lost in a Wood, alas! what is he but a common Man? His Wisdom knows not which is North and which is South; his Power a Beggar's Dog would bark at; and his Greatness the Beggar would not bow to. And yet how oft are we puff'd up with these false Attributes? Well, in losing the Monarch, I have found the Man.
[The Report of a Gun is heard.
Hark! Some Villain sure is near! What were it best to do? Will my Majesty protect me? No. Throw Majesty aside then, and let Manhood do it.
Enter the Miller.
Mil. I believe I hear the Rogue. Who's there?
King. No Rogue, I assure you.
Mil. Little better, Friend, I believe. Who fir'd that Gun?
King. Not I, indeed.
Mil. You lie, I believe.
King. Lie! lie! How strange it seems to me to be talk'd to in this Stile. [Aside.] Upon my Word I don't.