long-tongued, swivel-eyed chameleon, the Romans are at hand. (A
cry of terror from the women: they would fly but for the spears.)
Not even the descendants of the gods can resist them; for they
have each man seven arms, each carrying seven spears. The blood
in their veins is boiling quicksilver; and their wives become
mothers in three hours, and are slain and eaten the next day.

A shudder of horror from the women. Ftatateeta, despising them
and scorning the soldiers, pushes her way through the crowd and
confronts the spear points undismayed.

FTATATEETA. Then fly and save yourselves, O cowardly sons of the
cheap clay gods that are sold to fish porters; and leave us to
shift for ourselves.

BELZANOR. Not until you have first done our bidding, O terror of
manhood. Bring out Cleopatra the Queen to us and then go whither
you will.

FTATATEETA (with a derisive laugh). Now I know why the gods have
taken her out of our hands. (The guardsmen start and look at one
another). Know, thou foolish soldier, that the Queen has been
missing since an hour past sun down.

BELZANOR (furiously). Hag: you have hidden her to sell to Caesar
or her brother. (He grasps her by the left wrist, and drags her,
helped by a few of the guard, to the middle of the courtyard,
where, as they fling her on her knees, he draws a murderous
looking knife.) Where is she? Where is she? or-- (He threatens to
cut her throat.)