Low words best chime with this solemnity.
Enter a procession of Priestesses and Children bearing garlands and golden goblets, and strewing flowers.
Enter Synorix (as King, with gold laurel-wreath crown and purple robes), followed by Antonius, Publius, Noblemen, Guards, and the Populace.
Camma.
Hail, King!
Synorix.
Hail, Queen!
The wheel of Fate has roll’d me to the top.
I would that happiness were gold, that I
Might cast my largess of it to the crowd!