Was there beauty in this——?
Where were the white-bearded elders? Where the pure maidens, with the fillets on their brows, modest, and of seemly bearing, even in the rapture of the dance?
Out upon you, harlots!
[He tears off the panther-skin, and casts it aside.
Whither has beauty fled? When the Emperor bids her come forth again, will she not obey?
Out upon this stinking ribaldry!——
What faces! All the vices crying aloud in their distorted features. Ulcers on soul and body——
Faugh, faugh! A bath, Agilo! The stench chokes me.
The Bath-Servant Agilo.
[In the doorway to the right.] The bath is prepared, gracious sire!