head,
  And I somewhere twixt hill and dale at dawn
  Should, shepherd-wise, steal on a victory
  Unplanned as this, with my good squadrons, eh?—­
  By God, I were a very knave, did I
  Not merrily repeat the Prince’s act! 
  And if you spake, the law book in your hand: 
  “Kottwitz, you’ve forfeited your head!” I’d say: 
  I knew it, Sir; there, take it, there it is;
  When with an oath I bound me, hide and hair,
  Unto your crown, I left not out my head,
  And I should give you nought but what was yours!

ELECTOR.  You whimsical old gentleman, with you
  I get nowhere!  You bribe me with your tongue—­
  Me, with your craftily framed sophistries—­
  Me—­and you know I hold you dear!  Wherefore
  I call an advocate to bear my side
  And end our controversy.

[He rings a bell.  A footman enters.]

Go!  I wish
The Prince of Homburg hither brought from prison.

[Exit footman.]

He will instruct you, be assured of that,
What discipline and what obedience be! 
He sent me words, at least, of other pitch
Than this astute idea of liberty
You have rehearsed here like a boy to me.

[He stands by the table again reading.]

KOTTWITZ (amazed). 
  Fetch whom?  Call whom?

HENNINGS.  Himself?

TRUCHSZ.  Impossible!

[The officers group themselves, disquieted, and speak with one another.]

ELECTOR.  Who has brought forth this other document?

HOHENZOLL.  I, my liege lord!

ELECTOR (reading). 
                               “Proof that Elector Frederick
  The Prince’s act himself—­“—­Well, now, by heaven,
  I call that nerve! 
  What!  You dare say the cause of the misdeed
  The Prince committed in the fight, am I!

HOHENZOLL.  Yourself, my liege; I say it, Hohenzollern.

ELECTOR.  Now then, by God, that beats the fairy-tales! 
  One man asserts that he is innocent,
  The other that the guilty man am I!—­
  How will you demonstrate that thesis now?

HOHENZOLL.  My lord, you will recall to mind that night
  We found the Prince in slumber deeply sunk
  Down in the garden ’neath the plantain trees. 
  He dreamed, it seemed, of victories on the morrow,
  And in his hand he held a laurel-twig,
  As if to test his heart’s sincerity. 
  You took the wreath away, and smilingly
  Twined round the leaves the necklace that you wore,
  And to the lady, to your noble niece,
  Both wreath and necklace, intertwining, gave. 
  At such a wondrous sight, the Prince, aflush,
  Leaps to his feet; such precious things held forth
  By such a precious hand he needs must clasp. 
  But you withdraw from him in haste, withdrawing
  The Princess as you pass; the door receives you. 
  Lady and chain and laurel disappear,
  And, solitary, holding in his hand
  A glove he ravished from he knows not whom—­
  Lapped in the midnight he remains behind.