THE TAILOR.

It would fit you.

THE DUKE.

What!

THE TAILOR.

It would fit you well.

THE DUKE.

You're very bold, sir!

THE TAILOR.

And I'm empowered to take your order for it.

THE DUKE.

Ah!

THE TAILOR.

Yes!

THE FITTER.

A flowing cloak of China c.r.a.pe; Embroidered lining with enormous sleeves.

THE DUKE.

Indeed?

THE TAILOR.

Yes, Highness.

THE DUKE.

A conspirator?

Now I no longer wonder you cite Shakespeare!

THE TAILOR.

The little coat of green holds in its thrall Deputies, schools, a Peer, and a Field Marshal.

THE FITTER.

Spencer of figured muslin. Satin skirt.

THE TAILOR.

We can arrange your flight.

THE DUKE.

Should I agree I must beforehand--ay, and there's the rub-- Consult my friend Prince Metternich.

THE TAILOR.

You'll trust us When you are told our leader is your cousin The Countess Camerata.

THE DUKE.

Ah, I know!

The daughter of Elisa Baciocchi.

THE TAILOR.

The strange, unarmored amazon, who bears Her father's likeness proudly in her face, Seeks dangers, rides unbroken horses, fences--

THE FITTER.

A little sleeveless gown of lightest muslin.

THE TAILOR.

And when you know it's this Penthesilea--

THE FITTER.

The collar's only pinned, the shoulders basted--

THE TAILOR.

Who heads the plot I spoke of--

THE DUKE.

Give me proof!

THE TAILOR.

Turn round, your Highness; glance at the young person Who on her knees unpacks the clothes.

THE DUKE.