I must on! To find capital, eastward or west!
My kingdom — well, half of it, say — for a horse!
[The horse in the cleft neighs.] A horse! Ay, and robes!— jewels too,— and a sword!
[Goes closer.] It can’t be! It is though —! But how? I have read,
I don’t quite know where, that the will can move mountains;—
but how about moving a horse as well —?
Pooh! Here stands the horse, that’s a matter of fact;
for the rest, why, ab esse ad posse, et cetera.
[Puts on the dress and looks down at it.] Sir Peter — a Turk, too, from top to toe!
Well, one never knows what may happen to one.—
Gee-up, now, Grane, my trusty steed!
[Mounts the horse.] Gold-slipper stirrups beneath my feet!—
You may know the great by their riding-gear!
[Gallops off into the desert.]