and wherever the Duke leaps, not a minute does my gracious master, the count, loiter on the brink—(to the Servants)—What do you stand there listening for? I will let you know you have legs presently. Off! see to the tables, see to the flasks! Look there! Count Palfi has an empty glass before him!
RUNNER. (comes)
The great service-cup is wanted, sir, that rich gold cup with the Bohemian arms on it. The count says you know which it is.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR.
Ay! that was made for Frederick's coronation by the artist William—there was not such another prize in the whole booty at Prague.
RUNNER.
The same!—a health is to go round in him.
MASTER OF THE CELLAR. (shaking his head while he fetches and rinses the cups.)
This will be something for the tale-bearers—this goes to Vienna.
NEUMANN.
