PRIME MINISTER

Your Majesty has forgotten that your throne was built by war and rests
on force. Force only, military prestige only, can uphold you. The rebels
of labor have crept close to your throne now. Ten more years of peace,
and you are cast out overnight, to wander over Europe, a homeless
absurdity, a king without a chair to sit on.


KING

[_With flashing eyes._

We shall see!


PRIME MINISTER

[_Quietly._

May I ask your Majesty in all humility and devotion to give me back that
slip of paper?


KING

You have thought of our national honor, our prestige, our commercial
growth, our dynastic life. Have you given no thought at all to the men
you send to death to purchase these?