Sintula.
They cannot hurt you, my lord! The Roman legions will make their breasts your shield.
Julian.
The Roman legions. H’m;—my simple-minded friend! From every Roman legion three hundred men are to be drafted off, and are likewise to join the Emperor by the shortest route.
Sintula.
Ah! This is——?
Julian.
Well planned, is it not? Every branch of the army is to be set against me, that I may the more easily be disarmed.
Sintula.
And I tell you, my lord, that not one of your generals will lend himself to such a design.