Camma (coming and leaning over him).
So falls the throne of an hour.
Synorix (half rising).
Throne? is it thou? the Fates are throned, not we—
Not guilty of ourselves—thy doom and mine—
Thou—coming my way too—Camma—good-night.
[Dies.
Camma (upheld by weeping Priestesses).
Thy way? poor worm, crawl down thine own black hole
To the lowest Hell. Antonius, is he there?