AURELIA. Speak, Catiline! These many men in arms—? And you as well—? Oh, you will go—
CATILINE. [Wildly.] Yes, by the spirits of night,— A merry journey! See—this flashing sword! It thirsts for blood! I go—to quench its thirst.
AURELIA. My hope,—my dream! Ah, blissful was my dream! Thus am I wakened from my dreaming—
CATILINE. Silence! Stay here,—or follow! But my heart is cold To tears and lamentations.—Friends, behold How bright the full moon in the west declines! When next that full moon in its orient shines, An avalanche of fire shall sweep the state And all its golden glory terminate. A thousand years from now, when it shall light Mere crumbling ruins in the desert night,— One pillar in the dust of yonder dome Shall tell the weary wanderer: Here stood Rome!
[He rushes out to the right; all follow him.]