GOLZ (interrupting). Calm! calm!
THE PRINCE. Were the Mark's armies beaten then?
HOHENZOLLERN (with a stamp of his foot). No matter!
The ordinance demands obedience.
THE PRINCE (bitterly).
So—so, so, so!
HOHENZOLLERN (turning away from him).
It will not cost your head.
GOLZ (similarly).
Tomorrow morning, maybe, you'll be free.
[The ELECTOR folds his letters and returns to the circle of
officers.]
THE PRINCE (after he has unbuckled his sword).
My cousin Frederick hopes to play the Brutus
And sees himself, on linen drawn with chalk,
Already seated in the curule chair.
The foreground filled with Swedish battle-flags,
And on his desk the ordinance of the Mark.
By God, in me he shall not find a son
Who shall revere him 'neath the hangman's axe!
A German heart of honest cut and grain,
I look for kindness and nobility;
And when he stands before me, frigidly,
This moment, like some ancient man of stone,
I'm sorry for him and I pity him.
[He gives his sword to the officer and goes out.]
ELECTOR. Bring him to camp at Fehrbellin, and there
Assemble the court-martial for his trial.