THE PRINCE. On what I feel of him! [He rises.] No more, I beg.
Why should I fret with insubstantial doubts?
[He bethinks himself and sits down again. Pause.]
The court was forced to make its verdict death;
For thus the statute reads by which they judge.
But ere he let that sentence be fulfilled—
Ere, at a kerchief's fall, he yields this heart
That loves him truly, to the muskets' fire,
Ere that, I say, he'll lay his own breast bare
And spill his own blood, drop by drop, in dust.
HOHENZOLL. But, Arthur, I assure you—
THE PRINCE (petulantly). Oh, my dear!
HOHENZOLL. The Marshal—
THE PRINCE (still petulantly). Come, enough!
HOHENZOLLERN. Hear two words more!
If those make no impression, I'll be mute.
THE PRINCE (turning to him again).
I told you, I know all. Well, now, what is it?
HOHENZOLL. Most strange it is, a moment since, the Marshal
Delivered him the warrant for your death.
It leaves him liberty to pardon you,
But he, instead, has given the command
That it be brought him for his signature.