LAVINIA.
Handsome Captain: would you marry me if I hauled down the flag in the day of battle and burnt the incense? Sons take after their mothers, you know. Do you want your son to be a coward?
THE CAPTAIN.
(strongly moved). By great Diana, I think I would strangle you if you gave in now.
LAVINIA.
(putting her hand on the head of Androcles) The hand of God is on us three, Captain.
THE CAPTAIN.
What nonsense it all is! And what a monstrous thing that you should die for such nonsense, and that I should look on helplessly when my whole soul cries out against it! Die then if you must; but at least I can cut the Emperor’s throat and then my own when I see your blood.
The Emperor throws open the door of his box angrily, and appears in wrath on the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the gladiators spring to their feet.
THE EMPEROR.
The Christians will not fight; and your curs cannot get their blood up to attack them. It’s all that fellow with the blazing eyes. Send for the whip. (The Call Boy rushes out on the east side for the whip). If that will not move them, bring the hot irons. The man is like a mountain. (He returns angrily into the box and slams the door).
The Call Boy returns with a man in a hideous Etruscan mask, carrying a whip. They both rush down the passage into the arena.
LAVINIA.
(rising) Oh, that is unworthy. Can they not kill him without dishonoring him?
ANDROCLES.
(scrambling to his feet and running into the middle of the space between the staircases) It’s dreadful. Now I want to fight. I can’t bear the sight of a whip. The only time I ever hit a man was when he lashed an old horse with a whip. It was terrible: I danced on his face when he was on the ground. He mustn’t strike Ferrovius: I’ll go into the arena and kill him first. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so a great clamor is heard from the arena, ending in wild applause. The gladiators listen and look inquiringly at one another).
THE EDITOR.
What’s up now?