BELZANOR. By Apis, Persian, thy gods are good to thee.
THE PERSIAN. Try yet again, O captain. Double or quits!
THE SENTINEL (_poising his javelin as he peers over the wall_). Stand. Who goes there?
_They all start, listening. A strange voice replies from without._
BELZANOR (_calling to the sentry_). Pass him.
THE SENTINEL (_grounding his javelin_). Draw near, O bearer of evil tidings.
BELZANOR (_pocketing the dice and picking up his spear_). Let us receive this man with honor. He bears evil tidings.
_The guardsmen seize their spears and gather about the gate, leaving a way through for the new comer._
PERSIAN (_rising from his knee_). Are evil tidings, then, honorable?
BELZANOR. O barbarous Persian, hear my instruction. In Egypt the bearer of good tidings is sacrificed to the gods as a thank offering; but no god will accept the blood of the messenger of evil. When we have good tidings, we are careful to send them in the mouth of the cheapest slave we can find. Evil tidings are borne by young noblemen who desire to bring themselves into notice. (_They join the rest at the gate._)
THE SENTINEL. Pass, O young captain; and bow the head in the House of the Queen.
VOICE. Go anoint thy javelin with fat of swine, O Blackamoor; for before morning the Romans will make thee eat it to the very butt.
_The owner of the voice, a fairhaired dandy, dressed in a different fashion to that affected by the guardsmen, but no less extravagantly, comes through the gateway laughing. He is somewhat battlestained; and his left forearm, bandaged, comes through a torn sleeve. In his right hand he carries a Roman sword in its sheath. He swaggers down the courtyard, the Persian on his right, Belzanor on his left, and the guardsmen crowding down behind him._
BELZANOR. Who art thou that laughest in the House of Cleopatra the Queen, and in the teeth of Belzanor, the captain of her guard?
THE NEW COMER. I am Bel Affris, descended from the gods.
BELZANOR (_ceremoniously_). Hail, cousin!
ALL (_except the Persian_). Hail, cousin!
PERSIAN. All the Queen's guards are descended from the gods, O stranger, save myself. I am Persian, and descended from many kings.
BEL AFFRIS (_to the guardsmen_). Hail, cousins! (_To the Persian, condescendingly_) Hail, mortal!