Collected Works. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
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).
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.
ANDROCLES (running in through the passage, screaming with horror and hiding his eyes)!!!
LAVINIA. Androcles, Androcles: what's the matter?
ANDROCLES. Oh, don't ask me, don't ask me. Something too dreadful. Oh! (He crouches by her and hides his face in her robe, sobbing).
THE CALL Boy (rushing through from the passage as before) Ropes and hooks there! Ropes and hooks.
THE EDITOR. Well, need you excite yourself about it? (Another burst of applause).
Two slaves in Etruscan masks, with ropes and drag hooks, hurry in.
ONE OF THE SLAVES. How many dead?
THE CALL Boy. Six. (The slave blows a whistle twice; and four more masked slaves rush through into the arena with the same apparatus) And the basket. Bring the baskets. (The slave whistles three times, and runs through the passage with his companion).
THE CAPTAIN. Who are the baskets for?
THE CALL Boy. For the whip. He's in pieces. They're all in pieces, more or less. (Lavinia hides her face).
(Two more masked slaves come in with a basket and follow the others into the arena, as the Call Boy turns to the gladiators and exclaims, exhausted) Boys, he's killed the lot.
THE EMPEROR (again bursting from his box, this time in an ecstasy of delight) Where is he? Magnificent! He shall have a laurel crown.
Ferrovius, madly waving his bloodstained sword, rushes through the passage in despair, followed by his co-religionists, and by the menagerie keeper, who goes to the gladiators. The gladiators draw their swords nervously.
FERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut off this right hand: it has offended. Ye have swords, my brethren: strike.
LAVINIA. No, no. What have you done, Ferrovius?
FERROVIUS. I know not; but there was blood behind my eyes; and there's blood on my sword. What does that mean?
THE EMPEROR (enthusiastically, on the landing outside his box) What does it mean? It means that you are the greatest man in Rome. It means that you shall have a laurel crown of gold. Superb fighter, I could almost yield you my throne. It is a record for my reign: I shall live in history. Once, in Domitian's time, a Gaul slew three men in the arena and gained his freedom. But when before has one naked man slain six armed men of the bravest and best? The persecution shall cease: if Christians can fight like this, I shall have none but Christians to fight for me. (To the Gladiators) You are ordered to become Christians, you there: do you hear?
RETIARIUS. It is all one to us, Caesar. Had I been there with my net, the story would have been different.
THE CAPTAIN (suddenly seizing Lavinia by the wrist and dragging her up the steps to the Emperor) Caesar this woman is the sister of Ferrovius. If she is thrown to the lions he will fret. He will lose weight; get out of condition.
THE EMPEROR. The lions? Nonsense! (To Lavinia) Madam: I am proud to have the honor of making your acquaintance. Your brother is the glory of Rome.
LAVINIA. But my friends here. Must they die?
THE EMPEROR. Die! Certainly not. There has never been the slightest idea of harming them. Ladies and gentlemen: you are all free. Pray go into the front of the house and enjoy the spectacle to which your brother has so splendidly contributed. Captain: oblige me by conducting them to the seats reserved for my personal friends.
THE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Caesar: I must have one Christian for the lion. The people have been promised it; and they will tear the decorations to bits if they are disappointed.
THE EMPEROR. True, true: we must have somebody for the new lion.
FERROVIUS. Throw me to him. Let the apostate perish.
THE EMPEROR. No, no: you would tear him in pieces, my friend; and we cannot afford to throw away lions as if they were mere slaves. But we must have somebody. This is really extremely awkward.
THE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Why not that little Greek chap? He's not a Christian: he's a sorcerer.
THE EMPEROR. The very thing: he will do very well.
THE CALL Boy (issuing from the passage) Number twelve. The Christian for the new lion.
ANDROCLES (rising, and pulling himself sadly together) Well, it was to be, after all.
LAVINIA. I'll go in his place, Caesar. Ask the Captain whether they do not like best to see a woman torn to pieces. He told me so yesterday.
THE EMPEROR. There is something in that: there is certainly something in that—if only I could feel sure that your brother would not fret.
ANDROCLES. No: I should never have another happy hour. No: on the faith of a Christian and the honor of a tailor, I accept the lot that has fallen on me. If my wife turns up, give her my love and say that my wish was that she should be happy with her next, poor fellow! Caesar: go to your box and see how a tailor can die. Make way for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).
The vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor re-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately frightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges from the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus of thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy portcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A gong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his knees and prays.
The grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena. He rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He stops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his nose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a pointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and hides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a spring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an ecstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in supplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of Androcles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches his back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against Androcles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on his wrist, looks affrightedly