KING.
Good! It was about these heathenish performances that I wanted to speak to you. Prince, they tell me you are a man of taste, a man who is well acquainted with those godless Greek and Roman doings. As it is in my mind to celebrate my daughter's wedding with all pomp worthy of my crown—I want to ask you—to consult with my son—as to how most gracefully and amusingly to entertain the Courts of Poland, Saxony, Brunswick and Mecklenburg, who will all be here for an entire week—in a word, how we can win much honor and glory by this wedding.
PRINCE.
Wedding? The Princess—your daughter's wedding?
KING.
Yes, Prince. My artillery will furnish the salutes, and I will see to the reviews and parades my self. But it is in the evening that our guests grow weary in Berlin—they go to sleep in their chairs. Beer drinking and pipe smoking is not yet to every one's taste. We'll have to swim with the stream, therefore, and provide suitable amusements—illumination, operas, allegorical presentations, and such fol-da-rol—all about Prussia and England.
PRINCE.
England?
KING (rises).
Zounds! that ran over my tongue like a hare hurrying across the highway. H'm—I mean a sort of spectacle—oh, say unicorn—eagle—eagle—unicorn—leopard—intermingled—Prussia and England—and it must be in rhyme—in verse, as it were.