Tête-d'or: I have not come like the humble god of the soup,
Benevolent, blinking his eyes in the steam of meat and cabbage.
—Utter a bitter cry, my soul, rush forward! Men, I propose to wash away your shame and to lift you from your baseness.
Here you are pinched for room, I propose to lead you forth
And, having drawn you up in lines and columns, to advance with you against the whole world,
That you may become acquainted with all the earth, and indeed that you may make it yours
By force and by possession.
(Murmur in the crowd. Four groups form. In the first the tribune of the people and his adherents. In the second the man out of office. In the third, the officials of the state. In the fourth, the brother of the king.
The Tribune of the People (shouting): Never! I will not permit the setting up of a tyrant.
The Go-Between: He has us in his hand. In an hour the army will be here.