I'm coming, coming.
Hi, Frank! The knave I told to wake me must
have—
HOHENZOLLERN (regarding him).
It's raving mad he is!
THE PRINCE. Upon my oath, Harry, my dear, I don't know where I am.
HOHENZOLL. In Fehrbellin, you muddle-headed dreamer—
You're in a by-path of the Castle gardens.
THE PRINCE (to himself).
Engulf me, Night! Unwittingly once more
In slumber through the moonshine have I
strayed! [He pulls himself together.]
Forgive me! Now I know! Last night, recall,
The heat was such one scarce could lie in bed.
I crept exhausted hither to this garden,
And because Night with so sweet tenderness
Encompassed me, fair-haired and odorous Night—
Even as the Persian bride wraps close her lover,
Lo, here I laid my head upon her lap.
What is the clock now?
HOHENZOLLERN. Half an hour of midnight.
THE PRINCE. And you aver the troops are on the march?
HOHENZOLL. Upon my word, sharp, stroke of ten, as planned.
The Princess Orange regiment in van,
By this undoubtedly has reached the heights
Of Hackelwitz, there in the face of Wrangel
To cloak the army's hid approach at dawn.
THE PRINCE. Well, no harm's done. Old Kottwitz captains her
And he knows every purpose of this march.
I should have been compelled, at all events
By two, to come back hither for the council:
Those were the orders. So it's just as well
I stayed in the beginning. Let's be off.
The Elector has no inkling?
HOHENZOLLERN. Bah! How should he?
He's tight abed and snoozing long ago.
[They are about to depart when the PRINCE starts, turns, and picks
up the glove.]
THE PRINCE. I dreamed such an extraordinary dream!
It seemed as though the palace of a king,
Radiant with gold and silver, suddenly
Oped wide its doors, and from its terrace high
The galaxy of those my heart loves best
Came down to me:
The Elector and his Lady and the—third—
What is her name?
HOHENZOLLERN. Whose?
THE PRINCE (searching his memory). Why, the one I mean!
A mute must find his tongue to speak her name.
HOHENZOLL. The Platen girl?
THE PRINCE. Come, come, now!
HOHENZOLLERN. The Ramin
THE PRINCE. No, no, old fellow!
HOHENZOLLERN. Bork? Or Winterfeld?
THE PRINCE. No, no! My word! You fail to see the pearl
For the bright circlet that but sets it off!
HOHENZOLL. Damn it, then, tell me! I can't guess the face!
What lady do you mean?
THE PRINCE. Well, never mind.
The name has slipped from me since I awoke,
And goes for little in the story.
HOHENZOLLERN. Well,
Let's have it then!
THE PRINCE. But now, don't interrupt me!—
And the Elector of the Jovelike brow,
Holding a wreath of laurel in his hand,
Stands close beside me, and the soul of me
To ravish quite, twines round the jeweled band
That hangs about his neck, and unto one
Gives it to press upon my locks—Oh, friend!
HOHENZOLL. To whom?
THE PRINCE. Oh, friend!
HOHENZOLLERN. To whom then? Come, speak up!