PRINCE.
Then you—you are that irresistibly clever diplomat whom they are awaiting with open arms?
HOTHAM.
Does the King really look with favor upon this marriage with the Prince of Wales?
PRINCE.
Horrible! I picked this man for a genius from among a thousand others. I took him from Paris, and put him into English diplomacy and now I must suffer because he does honor to my judgment. Let me tell you, then, my friend, that the King and the Queen, quite ignorant of their mutual agreement, are both heartily desirous of this marriage and all of its implications. But you are to know also that Princess Wilhelmine, the unhappy sacrifice of your political ambitions, is loved by a prince who cannot compete in power or position with your Prince of Wales, but who in devotion, love, passion so far outdistances all and any crowned suitors for the hand of this angel as heaven, nay, as paradise, outdistances earth—and that this prince is—myself.
HOTHAM.
This is indeed a discovery I did not dream of, and I must, unhappily, add not a pleasant one. But if you ask in due form, why should they not grant you the hand of the Princess?
PRINCE.
Grant it to me? A petty German sovereign When they have the choice of future Kings and Emperors? Speak of me to the Queen and you will discover that she invariably confuses Baireuth with Ansbach.