(_Snatches paper._) No more. What follows is for no wife’s eyes. O Camma, Rome has a glimpse of this conspiracy; Rome never yet hath spar’d conspirator. Horrible! flaying, scourging, crucifying—— CAMMA. I am tender enough. Why do you practise on me? SYNORIX. Why should I practise on you? How you wrong me! I am sure of being every way malign’d. And if you should betray me to your husband—— CAMMA. Will _you_ betray him by this order? SYNORIX. See, I tear it all to pieces, never dream’d Of acting on it. [_Tears the paper._ CAMMA. I owe you thanks for ever. SYNORIX. Hath Sinnatus never told you of this plot? CAMMA. What plot? SYNORIX. A child’s sand-castle on the beach For the next wave—all seen,—all calculated, All known by Rome. No chance for Sinnatus. CAMMA. Why, said you not as much to my brave Sinnatus? SYNORIX. Brave—ay—too brave, too over-confident, Too like to ruin himself, and you, and me! Who else, with this black thunderbolt of Rome Above him, would have chased the stag to-day In the full face of all the Roman camp? A miracle that they let him home again, Not caught, maim’d, blinded him. [_CAMMA shudders._ (_Aside._) I have made her tremble. (_Aloud._) I know they mean to torture him to death. I dare not tell him how I came to know it; I durst not trust him with—my serving Rome To serve Galatia: you heard him on the letter. Not say as much? I all but said as much. I am sure I told him that his plot was folly. I say it to you—you are wiser—Rome knows all, But you know not the savagery of Rome. CAMMA. O—have you power with Rome? use it for him! SYNORIX. Alas! I have no such power with Rome. All that Lies with Antonius. [_As if struck by a sudden thought. Comes over to her._ He will pass to-morrow In the gray dawn before the Temple doors. You have beauty,—O great beauty,—and Antonius, So gracious toward women, never yet Flung back a woman’s prayer. Plead to him, I am sure you will prevail. CAMMA. Still—I should tell My husband. SYNORIX. Will he let you plead for him To a Roman? CAMMA. I fear not. SYNORIX. Then do not tell him. Or tell him, if you will, when you return, When you have charm’d our general into mercy, And all is safe again. O dearest lady,