[Biades is suddenly embarrassed]
Pyrr. [With a caress of assurance]
If that were so, my lords,
My pride would harbor his, and none should know
My secret.
Ste. Senators, and men of Athens,
Art dumb when justice waits on you for voice?
What censure have you for these rebel wives,
And this unsainted priest?
Amen. [To Philon] You counselled them
To their deceit?
Philon. I did.
Amen. You've no defence?
Philon. I need none.
Ste. Ha!
Philon. Whoso reveres the gods
Draws of their strength in every mortal inch,
And in this act I did them reverence,
Standing between their wish and meddling wits
Of these presumptive men. But pardon them.
For it is shame enough to've thought to make
A frislet of their own shake like the locks
Of cloud-haired Zeus. For me, my hand is on
My altar, and I fear no fall.
Amen. No more,
Good Philon.