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Show Wu... other if we can. Our rivals are sunk in the sloth Of what is called humanitarianism. The new religion Of so-called thinkers and feelers threatens to become a force which may so miseducate the masses, that the workmen Of the world may sweep away our own Culture of intellectual materialism by a universal strike for peace. This new movement, whose praise is being sung by poets and seers, must be throttled before its growth shall have become a menace to our fatherland. Already the people are singing the hymns of the new religion of humanity in secret places. Socialism is rife in our land. Now is the moment to crush it for a hundred years and so preserve the ancient dynasty of which your Majesty is God's chosen head, and secure the supremacy of our race. [Great cheers ring out from the Square from many thousand voices. Here and there angry imprecations too are heard. The cheers come nearer and nearer and the jingle-jingle of aAtJjJroaching7 cavalry is heard below] RULER : Are they cheering me P CHORUS OF MINISTERS AND PRINcEs [surrounding the RULER]: They are cheering the war. They are cheering the Prince-he waves his hand to them. RULER : lngrates-is my popularity then waning ? PRIME MINISTER [his watch in hand] : You are twelve minutes and fifteen seconds less popular than you were at midnight, your Majesty. RULER [twisting the quill pen in his hand] : That is the voice Of the people l PRIEST : Vox populi, Vox Dei l WAR MINISTER : It is the voice of the Army I [The royal DUKES and MINISTERS, PRIEST, and PROFESSOR surround the RULER, cajoling, flattering, and brow-beating him in turn. A military band blares out the National Hymn in which a hundred thousand "voices join. RULER takes the pen once more ; nerving himself to the great eflort, he beckons to the CHIROPODIST, who makes to serve the liqueur] CHIROPODIST : Now is my moment ! [Taking from his pocket the little bottle labelled " Poison," he is about to pour it into the glass when a royal DUKE approaches him with something glittering in his hand] ROYAL DUKE [to CHIROPODIST) : In recognition Of your valuable services His Majesty desires me to confer upon you the order of the Golden , Lamb, Of the second class. [Pins decoration on his breast] CIIIROPODIST [overcome, mechanically as in a dream, he Clasps the bauble in his hand, then hesitates, gasping] : 0 Mother, Mother! RULER : It is war ! CHIROPODIST : Let it rip ! [He spills the poison on the floor] [The RULER OF A GREAT PEOPLE signs the Ultimatmn. The CHIROPODIS'I‘ shrugs his hump] THE CURTAIN mus. A LITTLE BELGIAN REFUGEE Ru (IMRLES DANA GIBSON |
