THE ENVOY. Not so poor neither, Poppa. Nor so weak, if you are going to take in all the Powers. If it comes to killing, two can play at that game, longlived or shortlived.
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. No, Ambrose: we should have no chance. We are worms beside these fearful people: mere worms.
Zozim comes from the temple, robed majestically, and wearing a wreath of mistletoe in his flowing white wig. His false beard reaches almost to his waist. He carries a staff with a curiously carved top.
ZOZIM [in the doorway, impressively] Hail, strangers!
ALL [reverently] Hail!
ZOZIM. Are ye prepared?
THE ENVOY. We are.
ZOZIM [unexpectedly becoming conversational, and strolling down carelessly to the middle of the group between the two ladies] Well, I'm sorry to say the oracle is not. She was delayed by some member of your party who got loose; and as the show takes a bit of arranging, you will have to wait a few minutes. The ladies can go inside and look round the entrance hall and get pictures and things if they want them.
THE WIFE} [together] {Thank you.} {I should like to,} [They go into]
THE DAUGHTER} {very much.} [the temple]