The King: What do you wish of me? Devour me!
The Centurion: Ruined stature of our hope! Image bloody and wasted!
Open your arms at the moment of your death, and press to your breast in farewell, the sheaf of your geniuses with their sublime faces!
Whence have you drawn your courage and your strength?
Here instruct us, lest we despair! O
Noble effort, you disappear whelmed in the holocaust!
(Pause.
The King (crying out): Ah! Ah! Ah!
First Captain: What convulsion seizes him?
The King (crying out): Ah, ah, alas! Ah, ah, alas! Ah, alas!