[_He lays a long bull's horn, stained with blood on the steps of the
throne._]

WHITE ENVOY:
Our message is delivered. Grant us leave
And safe conveyance, that we may return
Unto our master. He will wait three days
To know your royal choice between his gifts.
Keep which you will and send the other back;
The red bull's horn your youngest page may bring;
But with the yoke, best send your mightiest army!

[_The ENVOYS retire, amid confused murmurs of the people, the King
silent, his head sunken on his breast._]

BENHADAD:
Proud words, a bitter message, hard to endure!
We are not now that force which feared no foe;
Our host is weakened, and our old allies
Have left us. Can we face this raging Bull
Alone, and beat him back? Give me your counsel.

[_Many speak at once, confusedly._]

What babblement is this? Were ye born at Babel?
Give me clear words and reasonable speech.

RAKHAZ: [_Pompously_]
O King, I am a reasonable man;
And there be some who call me very wise