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).

The Call Boy returns with a man in a hideous Etruscan mask,
carrying a whip. They both rush down the passage into the arena.

LAVINIA (rising) Oh, that is unworthy. Can they not kill him
without dishonoring him?

ANDROCLES (scrambling to his feet and running into the middle of
the space between the staircases) It's dreadful. Now I want to
fight. I can't bear the sight of a whip. The only time I ever hit
a man was when he lashed an old horse with a whip. It was
terrible: I danced on his face when he was on the ground. He
mustn't strike Ferrovius: I'll go into the arena and kill him
first. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so a
great clamor is heard from the arena, ending in wild
applause. The gladiators listen and look inquiringly at one
another).

THE EDITOR. What's up now?

LAVINIA (to the Captain) What has happened, do you think?

THE CAPTAIN. What CAN happen? They are killing them, I suppose.