Let’s to the river and skip oyster-shells,
Or sail our galleys! ’Tis a holiday.
’Tis Artemision!
The Priest.
[Kindly correcting.]
Come, come, my child;
Forbear such terms and call it Easter!
[The other watchers silence him, though still the Sleepers fail to notice them.]
Dion [the Sleeper].
[Coming forth.]