Sar.Since it is thus,
We'll die where we were born—in our own halls[x]
Serry your ranks—stand firm. I have despatched
A trusty satrap for the guard of Zames,
All fresh and faithful; they'll be here anon.
All is not over,—Pania, look to Myrrha.
[Pania returns towards Myrrha.
Sal. We have breathing time; yet once more charge, my friends—
One for Assyria!
Sar.Rather say for Bactria!