Then, with a solemnity born of the hour and his own condition, he looked round on us: "Gentlemen, my friends--Rudolf, my cousin ('tis a scandalous story, Rudolf, on my honour!), everything is yours to the half of Ruritania.
But ask me not for a single drop of this divine bottle, which I will drink to the health of that--that sly knave, my brother, Black Michael." And the King seized the bottle and turned it over his mouth, and drained it and flung it from him, and laid his head on his arms on the table.
And we drank pleasant dreams to his Majesty--and that is all I remember of the evening.

Perhaps it is enough..