Scene VII. Nemaha, the Palace, a kitchen.

[Enter two Servants.]
1st Servant. Perhaps it was the egg salad.
2nd Servant. If it were so, why not others suffer
from the phthisic?
1st Servant. Royal constitutions differ from yours
and mine. Take her sister, for example. 5
Six mattresses and yet she could still feel
the smallest pod unquieting her sleep.
[Enter Marcol, Normalizovitch, and Debrushka.]
2nd Servant. So chicken broth is a better potion
for the duchess stomach?
1st Servant. Feed the ill what their cravings demand, 10
is what I always say.
Marcol. Good! Food! Good cook. We have missed our lunch time
searching cranny and corridor for the Duke.
1st Servant. Nose out, clown. This is for our mistress.
Marcol. She, too, skipped lunch? 15
2nd Servant. Why, clown, haven’t you heard? Our lady, the
Duchess, fell faint. The Duke, so troubled and
aggrieved, shouted “Poison” and turned and choked
his son, our Horatio.
Debrushka. Oh, no! 20
2nd Servant. Fear not, young maiden who I have never
seen before. Good Eunomia revives.
The Duke is becalmed. The turmoil amended,
save for one strange decree.
1st Servant. Yes, he sent his brother, Raoul, out to 25
snare a witch.
[Exeunt servants.]
Marcol. Grutilda is strange. The decree is not.
Normalizovitch. Perhaps we should come again at a time more
opportune.
Marcol. No, no, no. He sent me to fetch you and 30
fetch you I shall.
Debrushka. It would be utterly rude to now press
our suit.
Marcol. Nonsense. That is my job.
[Exeunt.]