Bia. Then on my armor! Wife
May whistle when the bugle calls!
Amen. Stay, sir!
The Spartans are in power, and any check
Means slaughter. There's no help. The Persian fleet
Has sailed. The Athenians drop their useless arms
And follow at command, knowing no way
To win but by a bloodless yielding.
Bia. Yield!
Amen. Sir, we must grant the Spartans these two lives,
Whereon they'll strike no further. So they swear.
Sac. [To Pelagon] This is your downy Peace wooed from the clouds
To hover over Athens! Save the name!
She's from a briar-patch, not Heaven! Her wings
Are full of burrs!
Bia. [Holding Pelagon] Stand to! A scuttled ship
Has no choice deck. There's nothing to be saved
But dignity.
Pel. Nay, that's for Stesilaus! [Breaking away]
My life, my life!
[Noise mounts without. The wall is broken through, rear, and the breach reveals the street filled with angry Spartans]
Amen. Peace!
Gir. Give us Stesilaus!