Exactly. Also because if they didn't you might have them flogged, dear Little Mother. CATHERINE (springing energetically out of bed and seating herself on the edge of it). Flogged! I! A Liberal Empress! A philosopher! You are a barbarian, Naryshkin. (She rises and turns to the courtiers.) And then, as if I cared! (She turns again to Naryshkin.) You should know by this time that I am frank and original in character, like an Englishman. (She walks about restlessly.) No: what maddens me about all this ceremony is that I am the only person in Russia who gets no fun out of my being Empress. You all glory in me: you bask in my smiles: you get titles and honors and favors from me: you are dazzled by my crown and my robes: you feel splendid when you have been admitted to my presence; and when I say a gracious word to you, you talk about it to everyone you meet for a week afterwards. But what do I get out of it? Nothing. (She throws herself into the chair. Naryshkin deprecates with a gesture; she hurls an emphatic repetition at him.) Nothing!! I wear a crown until my neck aches: I stand looking majestic until I am ready to drop: I have to smile at ugly old ambassadors and frown and turn my back on young and handsome ones. Nobody gives me anything. When I was only an Archduchess, the English ambassador used to give me money whenever I wanted it--or rather whenever he wanted to get anything out of my sacred predecessor Elizabeth (the Court bows to the ground); but now that I am Empress he never gives me a kopek. When I have headaches and colics I envy the scullerymaids. And you are not a bit grateful to me for all my care of you, my work, my thought, my fatigue, my sufferings.

Naryshkin Monologue from Great Catherine (Whom Glory Still Adores)

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