MARSHAL. Whichever way the tide of battle turn
Shall budge not from his designated place.
THE PRINCE. Quick! Now I'll know in truth if it be hers.
[He lets the glove fall, together with his handkerchief; then recovers the handkerchief but leaves the glove lying where everybody can see it.]
MARSHAL (piqued). What is His Highness up to?
HOHENZOLLERN (aside). Arthur!
THE PRINCE. Here!
HOHENZOLL. Faith, you're possessed!
THE PRINCE. My Marshal, to command!
[He takes up pen and tablet once more. The MARSHAL regards him an
instant, questioningly. Pause.]
GOLZ (reading, after he has finished writing).
Shall budge not from his designated place.