_The_ ELECTOR. _Later, two footmen._
ELECTOR. Most curious! Were I the Dey of Tunis
I'd sound alarm at such a dubious move,
Lay on my desk despair's thin silken cord,
And at my palisaded castle-gate
Set up my heavy guns and howitzers.
But since it's just Hans Kottwitz from the Priegnitz
Who marches on me of his own sweet will
I'll treat the matter in the Mark's own way;
Of the three curls that gleam so silvery
On his old skull, I'll take firm hold of one
And lead him calmly with his squadrons twelve
To Arnstein, his headquarters, back again.
Why wake the city from its slumber thus?
[_He goes to the window a moment, then returns to the table and rings
a bell. Two lackeys enter_.]
Do run below and ask, as for yourself,
What's doing in the City Hall.
1st LACKEY. At once!
[_He goes out._]
ELECTOR (_to the other_).
But you go now and fetch me my apparel.
[_The lackey goes and brings it. The_ ELECTOR _attires himself and
dons his princely insignia._]