The audience-hall in BENHADAD'S palace. The sides of the hall are lined with lofty columns: the back opens toward the city, with descending steps: the House of Rimmon with its high tower is seen in the background. The throne is at the right in front: opposite is the royal door of entrance, guarded by four tall sentinels. Enter at the rear between the columns, RAKHAZ, SABALLIDIN, HAZAEL, IZDUBHAR.
IZDUBHAR: [An excited old man.]
The city is all in a turmoil. It boils like a pot of lentils. The people are foaming and bubbling round and round like beans in the pottage.
HAZAEL: [A lean, crafty man.]
Fear is a hot fire.
RAKHAZ: [A fat, pompous man.]
Well may they fear, for the Assyrians are not three days distant. They are blazing along like a waterspout to chop Damascus down like a pitcher of spilt milk.
SABALLIDIN: [Young and frank.]
Cannot Naaman drive them back?
RAKHAZ: [Puffing and blowing.]