The Young Prince. Will he come inside?
Hans Lorbass. Not yet. Before long.
The Young Prince. How long?
Hans Lorbass. Until the drums sound the attack.
The Young Prince. Soon?
Hans Lorbass. Very soon.
The Young Prince. Oh, that is splendid! And why did the father go up to his tower?
Hans Lorbass. Because ... If I knew whether this young blood would be poured out in vain. To every foulness God created he has given a tongue to shriek: "Behold my purpose!" And such a deed as this to-day ... but no! "If thou wert not!"
The Young Prince. If I were not,--what then?
Hans Lorbass. Wha--? Why? His sick desires, his failing deeds, the dreams that mock his brain, that make the right seem wrong,--if he might see a wish of his become a fact, as if by magic power, perhaps that knowledge of renewed strength might scatter his gloom to its accursed source and set him free. Now show thy worth and bleed here quietly on my breast--what dost thou there!