LAVINIA. Captain: all that seems nothing to me now. I’ll not say that death is a terrible thing; but I will say that it is so real a thing that when it comes close, all the imaginary things—all the stories, as you call them—fade into mere dreams beside that inexorable reality. I know now that I am not dying for stories or dreams. Did you hear of the dreadful thing that happened here while we were waiting? THE CAPTAIN. I heard that one of your fellows bolted, and ran right into the jaws of the lion. I laughed. I still laugh. LAVINIA. Then you don’t understand what that meant? THE CAPTAIN. It meant that the lion had a cur for his breakfast. LAVINIA. It meant more than that, Captain. It meant that a man cannot die for a story and a dream. None of us believed the stories and the dreams more devoutly than poor Spintho; but he could not face the great reality. What he would have called my faith has been oozing away minute by minute whilst I’ve been sitting here, with death coming nearer and nearer, with reality becoming realler and realler, with stories and dreams fading away into nothing. THE CAPTAIN. Are you then going to die for nothing? LAVINIA. Yes: that is the wonderful thing. It is since all the stories and dreams have gone that I have now no doubt at all that I must die for something greater than dreams or stories. THE CAPTAIN. But for what? LAVINIA. I don’t know. If it were for anything small enough to know, it would be too small to die for. I think I’m going to die for God. Nothing else is real enough to die for. THE CAPTAIN. What is God? LAVINIA. When we know that, Captain, we shall be gods ourselves. THE CAPTAIN. Lavinia; come down to earth. Burn the incense and marry me. LAVINIA. Handsome Captain: would you marry me if I hauled down the flag in the day of battle and burnt the incense? Sons take after their mothers, you know. Do you want your son to be a coward? THE CAPTAIN. (_strongly moved_). By great Diana, I think I would strangle you if you gave in now. LAVINIA. (_putting her hand on the head of Androcles_) The hand of God is on us three, Captain. THE CAPTAIN. What nonsense it all is! And what a monstrous thing that you should die for such nonsense, and that I should look on helplessly when my whole soul cries out against it! Die then if you must; but at least I can cut the Emperor’s throat and then my own when I see your blood. The Emperor throws open the door of his box angrily, and appears in wrath on the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the gladiators spring to their feet. THE EMPEROR. The Christians will not fight; and your curs cannot get their blood up to attack them. It’s all that fellow with the blazing eyes. Send for the whip. (_The Call Boy rushes out on the east side for the whip_). If that will not move them, bring the hot irons. The man is like a mountain. (_He returns angrily into the box and slams the door_).