know you, for your kind is to be found the world over. You
live for thought and immortality, you say; but you are never seen when a
thought is to be born; you are never felt when it comes to a question of
immortality. But around heaped up dishes, in the sunlight of affluence
and power, there you swarm, like fat meat flies, only to fly away that
you may set black specks upon those who can let themselves be slain for
both thought and immortality. Out of my sight, liar! I would have your
head removed did I not see the shadow of a purpose in your presence.
A poor ruler is forced by political considerations to do so many
despicable things that he would die of shame did he not have an
institution like you to dull his conscience continually. Go! I would be
alone.

CHAMBERLAIN. Your Highness, it cannot be.

PEHR. It can be! [All go out except Pehr and Royal Historian.]

PEHR. What are you waiting for? What do you do?

HISTORIAN. I am writing Your Highness' history.

PEHR. So you are Court Historian.

HISTORIAN. Royal--

PEHR. What matter, once you're dead! But what shall you write about? I
have never carried on any wars.

HISTORIAN. That is just what I wish to speak about. Your Highness only
need turn to the Minister of War--

PEHR. Then he will arrange one; that is his occupation, and for that he
is paid 20,000 shekels.

HISTORIAN. It is the people, Your Highness, who--

PEHR. Conduct the wars. The Minister of War makes them, while we sit at
home and take the glory--the shame we never take.

[Enter Vizier.]

VIZIER. The bride is waiting.

PEHR. The bride! Who? Where? What does it mean?

VIZIER. Your Highness' consort.

PEHR. Lisa! She loves me still, despite all my faults? Conduct her
hither. She shall bring the fresh air of the forest into these musty
halls!

VIZIER. Your Highness wished first to sign the marriage contract.

PEHR. I'm forever writing! No, this time I don't have to read. [Signs.]
Now, Royal Historian, you can put down at least one action in my life
that was not crime! [Vizier and Historian go.]

[Bride, veiled in Oriental fashion, is ushered in; attendants withdraw
immediately; from behind is heard soft music.]

PEHR. [Runs toward bride.] Lisa, Lisa! You always come like a sunbeam
when the clouds thicken--always like a friend in the dark hour!

BRIDE. [Raises veil.] My name is not Lisa.

PEHR. Not Lisa--What does this mean? Treachery! Who are you then?

BRIDE. Your consort.

PEH