PLIM. [Clenching his fists.] Infamous scoundrel!
RUTH. [Advancing Upon HAGEN.] How dare you!
HAGEN. It stings, does it? Ha! Ha!
PLIM. [Sputtering.] You wretch!
IS. This has gone too far. Stop, Rutherford! Calm yourself, Plimpton. Let us not forget ourselves! [To PRINCE HAGEN, haughtily.] I do not know who you are, sir, or by what right you are in my house. You say that you are a friend of my son's...
HAGEN. I claim that honor, sir.
IS. The fact that you claim it prevents my ordering you into the street. But I will see my son, sir, and find out by what right you are here to insult my guests. [Turning.] Come, Plimpton. Come, Rutherford ... we will bandy no words with him!
[They go off, centre.]
HAGEN. [Alone.] By God! I touched them! Ha, ha, ha! [Grimly.] He will order me into the street! [With concentrated fury.] That is it! They shut you out! They build a wall about themselves! Aristocracy! [Clenching his fast.] Very well! So be it! You sit within your fortress of privilege! You are haughty and contemptuous, flaunting your power! But I'll breach your battlements, I'll lay them in the dust! I'll bring you to your knees before me!
[A silence. Suddenly there is heard, very faintly, the Nibelung theme. It is repeated; HAGEN starts.]