One of the Citizens.
[To Phocion.] Who is this woman? Phocion. What? Know you not the widow Publia,—the psalm-singer? Citizen. Ah, yes, yes, yes! Publia. Hilarion! my child! What will they do to him? Ah, Phocion,—are you there? God be praised for sending me a Christian brother! Phocion. Hush, hush, be quiet; do not scream so loud; the Emperor is coming. Publia. Oh, this ungodly Emperor! The Lord of Wrath is visiting his sins upon us; famine ravages the land; the earth trembles beneath our feet! [A detachment of soldiers enters by the street on the right.
The Commander of the Detachment.
Stand aside; make room here!
Publia.
Oh come, good Phocion;—help me, for our friendship's and our fellowship's sake
Phocion.
Are you mad, woman? I do not know you.
