Publia.
Hilarion! my child! What will they do to him? Ah, Phocion,—are you there? God be praised for sending me a Christian brother——!
Phocion.
Hush, hush, be quiet; do not scream so loud; the Emperor is coming.
Publia.
Oh, this ungodly Emperor! The Lord of Wrath is visiting his sins upon us; famine ravages the land; the earth trembles beneath our feet!
[A detachment of soldiers enters by the street on the right.
The Commander of the Detachment.
Stand aside; make room here!
Publia.