Ministers. Think of that, now!
Homaris. All pre-concerted!
Don Torribio. Gathering shells is an innocent and even laudable employment,—but it should be carried on on a safe shore, and not within reach of hungry sea-monsters.
Every man—and more especially a king—ought to know what his house is built on.
If your house happens to stand—not on a rock foundation, but on the back of a sleeping whale, you must not dance too vigorously, or you will probably wake the brute.
It is safer to swim about in the sea on the back of a shark, than to be king of a famished people.
The conclusion of your dream I will interpret to you after the grass-eating. Now it is your turn.
King Bilbonzo. This is really going too far! Our toleration has reached its limits. Can you be wanting to sow discord between Us and our beloved people? Out of our sight, impious liar!—this very moment!
Hyacinthe (the Poet-Laureate—seated next to the King). Majesty!—look out for your crown!
King Bilbonzo. Oh!—thanks! [Sets his crown straight.]