THE EDITOR (scrambling to his feet) Sh! Attention there! The Emperor. (The Keeper bolts precipitately into the passage. The gladiators rise smartly and form into line).
The Emperor enters on the Christians' side, conversing with Metellus, and followed by his suite.
THE GLADIATORS. Hail, Caesar! those about to die salute thee.
CAESAR. Good morrow, friends.
Metellus shakes hands with the Editor, who accepts his condescension with bluff respect.
LAVINIA. Blessing, Caesar, and forgiveness!
CAESAR (turning in some surprise at the salutation) There is no forgiveness for Christianity.
LAVINIA. I did not mean that, Caesar. I mean that WE forgive YOU.
METELLUS. An inconceivable liberty! Do you not know, woman, that the Emperor can do no wrong and therefore cannot be forgiven?
LAVINIA. I expect the Emperor knows better. Anyhow, we forgive him.
THE CHRISTIANS. Amen!
CAESAR. Metellus: you see now the disadvantage of too much severity. These people have no hope; therefore they have nothing to restrain them from saying what they like to me. They are almost as impertinent as the gladiators. Which is the Greek sorcerer?
ANDROCLES (humbly touching his forelock) Me, your Worship.
CAESAR. My Worship! Good! A new title. Well, what miracles can you perform?
ANDROCLES. I can cure warts by rubbing them with my tailor's chalk; and I can live with my wife without beating her.
CAESAR. Is that all?
ANDROCLES. You don't know her, Caesar, or you wouldn't say that.
CAESAR. Ah, well, my friend, we shall no doubt contrive a happy release for you. Which is Ferrovius?
FERROVIUS. I am he.
CAESAR. They tell me you can fight.
FERROVIUS. It is easy to fight. I can die, Caesar.
CAESAR. That is still easier, is it not?
FERROVIUS. Not to me, Caesar. Death comes hard to my flesh; and fighting comes very easily to my spirit (beating his breast and lamenting) O sinner that I am! (He throws himself down on the steps, deeply discouraged).
CAESAR. Metellus: I should like to have this man in the Pretorian Guard.
METELLUS. I should not, Caesar. He looks a spoilsport. There are men in whose presence it is impossible to have any fun: men who are a sort of walking conscience. He would make us all uncomfortable.
CAESAR. For that reason, perhaps, it might be well to have him. An Emperor can hardly have too many consciences. (To Ferrovius) Listen, Ferrovius. (Ferrovius shakes his head and will not look up). You and your friends shall not be outnumbered to-day in the arena. You shall have arms; and there will be no more than one gladiator to each Christian. If you come out of the arena alive, I will consider favorably any request of yours, and give you a place in the Pretorian Guard. Even if the request be that no questions be asked about your faith I shall perhaps not refuse it.
FERROVIUS. I will not fight. I will die. Better stand with the archangels than with the Pretorian Guard.
CAESAR. I cannot believe that the archangels—whoever they may be—would not prefer to be recruited from the Pretorian Guard. However, as you please. Come: let us see the show.
As the Court ascends the steps, Secutor and the Retiarius return from the arena through the passage; Secutor covered with dust and very angry: Retiarius grinning.
SECUTOR. Ha, the Emperor. Now we shall see. Caesar: I ask you whether it is fair for the Retiarius, instead of making a fair throw of his net at me, to swish it along the ground and throw the dust in my eyes, and then catch me when I'm blinded. If the vestals had not turned up their thumbs I should have been a dead man.
CAESAR (halting on the stair) There is nothing in the rules against it.
SECUTOR (indignantly) Caesar: is it a dirty trick or is it not?
CAESAR. It is a dusty one, my friend. (Obsequious laughter). Be on your guard next time.
SECUTOR. Let HIM be on his guard. Next time I'll throw my sword at his heels and strangle him with his own net before he can hop off. (To Retiarius) You see if I don't. (He goes out past the gladiators, sulky and furious).
CAESAR (to the chuckling Retiarius). These tricks are not wise, my friend. The audience likes to see a dead man in all his beauty and splendor. If you smudge his face and spoil his armor they will show their displeasure by not letting you kill him. And when your turn comes, they will remember it against you and turn their thumbs down.
THE RETIARIUS. Perhaps that is why I did it, Caesar. He bet me ten sesterces that he would vanquish me. If I had had to kill him I should not have had the money.
CAESAR (indulgent, laughing) You rogues: there is no end to your tricks. I'll dismiss you all and have elephants to fight. They fight fairly. (He goes up to his box, and knocks at it. It is opened from within by the Captain, who stands as on parade to let him pass). The Call Boy comes from the passage, followed by three attendants carrying respectively a bundle of swords, some helmets, and some breastplates and pieces of armor which they throw down in a heap.
THE CALL BOY. By your leave, Caesar. Number eleven! Gladiators and Christians!
Ferrovius springs up, ready for martyrdom. The other Christians take the summons as best they can, some joyful and brave, some patient and dignified, some tearful and helpless, some embracing one another with emotion. The Call Boy goes back into the passage.
CAESAR (turning at the door of the box) The hour has come, Ferrovius. I shall go into my box and see you killed, since you scorn the Pretorian Guard. (He goes into the box. The Captain shuts the door, remaining inside with the Emperor. Metellus and the rest of the suite disperse to their seats. The Christians, led by Ferrovius, move towards the passage).
LAVINIA (to Ferrovius) Farewell.
THE EDITOR. Steady there. You Christians have got to fight. Here! arm yourselves.
FERROVIUS (picking up a sword) I'll die sword in hand to show people that I could fight if it were my Master's will, and that I could kill the man who kills me if I chose.
THE EDITOR. Put on that armor.
FERROVIUS. No armor.
THE EDITOR (bullying him) Do what you're told. Put on that armor.
FERROVIUS (gripping the sword and looking dangerous) I said, No armor.
THE EDITOR. And what am I to say when I am accused of sending a naked man in to fight my men in armor?
FERROVIUS. Say your prayers, brother; and have no fear of the princes of this world.
THE EDITOR. Tsha! You obstinate fool! (He bites his lips irresolutely, not knowing exactly what to do).
ANDROCLES (to Ferrovius) Farewell, brother, till we meet in the sweet by-and-by.
THE EDITOR (to Androcles) You are going too. Take a sword there; and put on any armor you can find to fit you.
ANDROCLES. No, really: I can't fight: I never could. I can't bring myself to dislike anyone enough. I'm to be thrown to the lions with the lady.
THE EDITOR. Then get out of the way and hold your noise. (Androcles steps aside with cheerful docility). Now then! Are you all ready there?
A trumpet is heard from the arena.
FERROVIUS (starting convulsively) Heaven give me strength!
THE EDITOR. Aha! That frightens you, does it?
FERROVIUS. Man: there is no terror like the terror of that sound to me. When I hear a trumpet or a drum or the clash of steel or the hum of the catapult as the great stone flies, fire runs through my veins: I feel my blood surge up hot behind