The King. No, if that cannot be done away with, I can do away with myself. But it must be possible to do away with it! It cannot be necessary for a people, who are marching on the eternal path towards truth, to have a lie marching at the head of them!
The King (eagerly). And that is what you will help me to show them.
Koll. I have no objection! There is life in the country yet!
The King (to Gran). And you, my friend? Are you afraid of being shot by a mad republican if you help me?
Gran. I am not particularly afraid of death, any way. But the maid is telling us that supper is served.
(SCENE.--A park with old lofty trees. In the foreground, to the right, an arbour with a seat. The KING is sitting, talking to BANG, who is a man of gross corpulence.)
Bang. And I felt so well in every way that, I assure your Majesty, I used to feel it a pleasure to be alive.
The King (drawing patterns in the dust with his walking stick). I can quite believe it.
Bang. And then I was attacked by this pain in my heart and this difficulty in breathing. I run round and round this park, on an empty stomach, till I am absolutely exhausted.
The King (absently). Couldn't you drive round, then?
Bang. Drive?--But it is the exercise, your Majesty, that--
The King. Of course. I was thinking of something else.
Bang. I would not mind betting that I know what your Majesty was thinking of--if I may say so without impertinence.
Bang. Your Majesty was thinking of the socialists!
The King (looking amused). Why particularly of them?
Bang. I was right, you see! Ha, ha, ha! (His laughter brings on a violent fit of coughing.) Your Majesty must excuse me; laughing always brings on my cough.--But, you know, the papers this morning are full of their goings on!
Bang. Then I can assure your Majesty that the way they are going on is dreadful. And just when we were all getting on so comfortably! What in the world do they want?
The King. Probably they want to get on comfortably too.
Bang. Aren't they well off as it is, the beasts? Excuse me, your Majesty, for losing my temper in your Majesty's presence.
Bang. You are very good. These strikes, too--what is the object of them? To make every one poor? Every one can't be rich. However, I pin my faith to a strong monarchy. Your Majesty is the padlock on my cash-box!