Ohe!--
The Orient likewise looms full somberly. . . .
The Turk declines pacifically to yield
What I have promised Alexander. Ah! . . .
As for Constantinople being his prize
I'll see him frozen first. His flight's too high!
And showing that I think so makes him cool. (Rises.)
Is Soult the Duke Dalmatia yet at hand?
OFFICER
He has arrived along the Leon road
Just now, your Majesty; and only waits
The close of your perusals.
[Enter SOULT, who is greeted by NAPOLEON.]
FIRST DESERTER
Good Lord deliver us from all great men, and take me back again to
humble life! That's Marshal Soult the Duke of Dalmatia!
SECOND DESERTER
The Duke of Damnation for our poor rear, by the look on't!
FIRST DESERTER
Yes--he'll make 'em rub their poor rears before he has done with
'em! But we must overtake 'em to-morrow by a cross-cut, please God!
NAPOLEON (pointing to the dispatches)
Here's matter enough for me, Duke, and to spare.
The ominous contents are like the threats
The ancient prophets dealt rebellious Judah!
Austria we soon shall have upon our hands,
And England still is fierce for fighting on,--
Strange humour in a concord-loving land!
So now I must to Paris straight away--
At least, to Valladolid; so as to stand
More apt for couriers than I do out here
In this far western corner, and to mark
The veerings of these new developments,
And blow a counter-breeze.
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