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!

BELZANOR. You have been in battle, Bel Affris; and you are a
soldier among soldiers. You will not let the Queen's women have
the first of your tidings.

BEL AFFRIS. I have no tidings, except that we shall have our
throats cut presently, women, soldiers, and all.

PERSIAN (to Belzanor). I told you so.

THE SENTINEL (who has been listening). Woe, alas!

BEL AFFRIS (calling to him). Peace, peace, poor Ethiop: destiny
is with the gods who painted thee black. (To Belzanor) What has
this mortal (indicating the Persian) told you?

BELZANOR. He says that the Roman Julius Caesar, who has landed on
our shores with a handful of followers, will make himself master
of Egypt. He is afraid of the Roman soldiers. (The guardsmen
laugh with boisterous scorn.) Peasants, brought up to scare crows
and follow the plough. Sons of smiths and millers and tanners!
And we nobles, consecrated to arms, descended from the gods!

PERSIAN. Belzanor: the gods are not always good to their poor