[Exeunt, left. The flames from Achridina die down. Semi-darkness. Men enter and creep about the blackened ruins. Soft light in the East]
First man. Now Ceres mend our bones! Will 't e'er be light?
Second man. Ay, yonder winks the dawn.
First man. This blindfold war
Is Horror past familiar—her leper cheek
Bowsing both cheeks like mistress privileged.
Third man. Gods keep us! Many a man has died this night
Upon his dear friend's sword. The treacherous torch
And threatening glare of flames too oft betrayed
The panic-glaz�d eye.