(rehearsing) Your Majesty, I see no point in beating about the bush. I regret to inform you, Sire, that the young lady has disappeared, leaving behind only this glass slipper. (determined) Yes. I'll do it.

He stands at the door prepared to knock. 

(writhing) No. I just can't.

[poeticaly] Who she is or whence she came, he knows not, nor does he care, for his heart tells him that here, here is the maid predestined to be his bride. [chuckling] A pretty plot for fairy tales, Sire. But in real life, oh, no. No! It was foredoomed to failure.

[clears throat] (READ QUICKLY) "All loyal subjects of His Imperial Majesty are hereby notified by royal proclamation in regard to a (sleepily) certain glass…[yawning]...slipper. It is upon this day decreed..."