HOTHAM.
Has your father cut you off from the succession?
PRINCE.
Ah, do not touch that sensitive wound! Fetch me, instead, the Empire of
Morocco.
HOTHAM.
You are ill of a fever, Prince, or else you need a friend to aid you with his sane mind.
PRINCE.
Hotham, you are a genius—many an intrigue of your country's foes will be shattered against that brain of yours. But you cannot help me.
HOTHAM.
I wish that I could, Prince. I am so deeply in your debt for a hundred good services rendered me during your sojourn in England. It was your influence that put me in touch with our leading statesmen; you opened the diplomatic career to me. To you I owe all that I am and have—my brain is at your service, let it think for you; my arm is at your service, let it act for you.