h and blinded by its hate.
It says they're poisoning me; hints at Locusta
Who poisoned Claudius. If thy Prince is dying,
Wherefore, O France, belittle his disease?
It is no poisoned cup of melodrama
That kills the Duke of Reichstadt! 'Tis his soul!

PROKESCH.

My Lord--!

THE DUKE.

It is my soul! it is my name!
That mighty name, which throbs with guns and bells,
Clashes and thunders, ceaselessly reproaches
Against my languor with its bells and guns!
Silence your tocsins and your salvos! Poison?
What need of poison in the prison-house?
I yearn to broaden history!--I am
A pallid visage watching at a window.
If I could only rid myself of doubt!
You know me well! what do you think of me?
Suppose I were what people say we are
And what we often are, we great men's sons!
Metternich feeds this doubt with frequent hints:
He's right; it is his duty as an Austrian.
I shiver when he opes the bonbonniere
They call his wit, to find some honeyed venom.
You! tell me honestly what is my worth?
You know me; can I be an Emperor?
From this pale brow may God withhold the crown
Unless its pallor's that of Bonaparte!

PROKESCH.

Prince--!

THE DUKE.

Answer me! Must I despise myself?
Speak out! What am I? Are my wits too dull,
And are my wrists too feeble for the sceptre?
What do you think of me?

PROKESCH.

Prince, if all Princes
Struggled with half these torments, doubts, and fears
There would be none but admirable kings.

THE DUKE.

I thank you, Prokesch. Ah! that word consoles me.
To work, my friend!

[_A_ LACKEY _brings in a tray full of letters, places
them on the table, and goes out._]

PROKESCH.

Your mail has just arrived.
A load of letters.

THE DUKE.

Yes; from women. These
Reach me unopened.

PROKESCH.

What successes!

THE DUKE.

Yes;
That's what it is to wear the fatal halo.

[_He opens one letter after another; reads the beginning
and tears them up._]

"I saw you in your box last night, how pale--!"
Destroyed! "Oh, that while brow!" Destroyed! "My Prince,
I saw you riding in the Prater yesterday--"
Destroyed!

PROKESCH.

What, all?

THE DUKE.

"Your youth--" The Canoness.
Destroyed!

[_The door opens gently and_ THERESA _comes in._]

THERESA.

Forgive