Darius.
Alas! the faithful army!
Atossa.
All the flower of Bactria’s youth are slain.
Darius.
Woe, my hapless son! What myriads of our faithful friends he ruined!
Atossa.
Xerxes, stripped of all his glory, with a straggling few they say—
Darius.
What of him? Speak! Speak! I pray thee; is there safety, is there hope?