Teja.
Your counsel, ye men!
Theodemir.
Sire, we have none to give.
Teja.
And thou, Euric, with all thy wisdom? Euric. Sire, I have served the great Theoderic. And yet he would have had none to give.
Teja.
Come then, I know.... It is easy and quick to be understood: Die!... Why look ye at me with such mistrust?... Do ye not yet understand me? Think ye I require ye to wrap yourselves in your mantles, like cowardly Greeks, and beg your neighbours for a thrust in the back? Be calm: I will protect you against shame, since I can no more lead you to honour.--Our place here cannot be taken, so long as thirty of us have power to wield our spears. But the hour shall come--and at no distant time--when the last arm, crippled by hunger, can no more be outstretched to beg quarter of the invading murderers.
Theodemir.
No Gothic man doeth that, King!