caricature in the _Misopogon_.
Footnote 8:
Between fifteen and twenty are enumerated by Allard (_Julien
l’Apostat_), a writer who gravely reproduces the most extravagant
figments of the hagiographers.
-----
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CAESAR’S APOSTASY
CHARACTERS.
THE EMPEROR CONTSTANTIUS.
THE EMPRESS EUSEBIA.
THE PRINCESS HELENA, _the Emperor’s sister_.
PRINCE GALLUS, _the Emperor’s cousin_.
PRINCE JULIAN, _Gallus’s younger half-brother_.
MEMNON, _an Ethiopian, the Emperor’s body-slave_.
POTAMON, _a goldsmith_.
PHOCION, _a dyer_.
EUNAPIUS, _a hairdresser_.
_A Fruit-seller._
_A Captain of the Watch._
_A Soldier._
_A Painted Woman._
_A Paralytic Man._
_A Blind Beggar._
AGATHON, _son of a Cappadocian vine-grower_.
LIBANIUS, _a Philosopher_.
GREGORY OF NAZIANZUS.
BASIL OF CAESAREA.
SALLUST OF PERUSIA.
HEKEBOLIUS, _a Theologian_.
MAXIMUS THE MYSTIC.
EUTHERIUS, _Julian’s chamberlain_.
LEONTES, _a Quaestor_.
MYRRHA, _a slave_.
DECENTIUS, _a Tribune_.
SINTULA, _Julian’s Master of the Horse_.
FLORENTIUS, }_Generals._
SEVERUS, }
ORIBASES, _a Physician_.
LAIPSO, } _Subalterns._
VARRO }
MAURUS, _a Standard-bearer_.
_Soldiers_, _church-goers_, _heathen onlookers_, _courtiers_,
_priests_, _students_, _dancing girls_, _servants_, _the
Quaestor’s retinue_, _Gallic warriors_.
_Visions and voices._
_The first act passes in Constantinople, the second in Athens, the third
in Ephesus, the fourth in Lutetia in Gaul, and the fifth in Vienna
[Vienne] in the same province. The action takes place during the ten
years between A.D. 351 and A.D. 361._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CAESAR’S APOSTASY.
PLAY IN FIVE ACTS.
ACT FIRST.
_Easter night in Constantinople. The scene is an open place, with trees,
bushes, and overthrown statues, in the vicinity of the Imperial
Palace. In the background, fully illuminated, stands the Imperial
Chapel. To the right a marble balustrade, from which a staircase
leads down to the water. Between the pines and cypresses appear
glimpses of the Bosphorus and the Asiatic coast._
_Service in the church. Soldiers of the Imperial Guard stand on the
church steps. Great crowds of worshippers stream in. Beggars,
cripples, and blind men at the doors. Heathen onlookers,
fruit-sellers, and water-carriers fill up the place._
HYMN OF PRAISE.
[_Inside the church._]
Never-ending adoration
To the Cross of our salvation!
The Serpent is hurled
To the deepest abyss;
The Lamb rules the world;
All is peace, all is bliss.
POTAMON THE GOLDSMITH.
[_Carrying a paper lantern, enters from the left, taps one of the
soldiers on the shoulder, and asks_:] Hist, good friend—when comes the
Emperor?
THE SOLDIER.
I cannot tell.
PHOCION THE DYER.
[_In the crowd, turning his head._] The Emperor? Did not some one ask
about the Emperor? The Emperor will come a little before midnight—just
before. I had it from Memnon himself.
EUNAPIUS THE BARBER.
[_Rushes in hastily and pushes a Fruit-seller aside._] Out of the way,
heathen!
THE FRUIT-SELLER.
Softly, sir!
POTAMON.
The swine grumbles!
EUNAPIUS.
Dog, dog!
PHOCION.
Grumbling at a well-dressed Christian—at a man of the Emperor’s own
faith!
EUNAPIUS.
[_Knocks the Fruit-seller down._] Into the gutter with you!
POTAMON.
That’s right. Wallow there, along with your gods!
PHOCION.
[_Beating him with his stick._] Take that—and that—and that!
EUNAPIUS.
[_Kicking him._] And this—and this! I’ll baste your god-detested skin
for you!
[_The Fruit-seller hastens away._
PHOCION.
[_With the evident intention of being heard by the Captain of the
Guard._] It is much to be desired that some one should bring this scene
to our blessed Emperor’s ears. The Emperor has lately expressed his
displeasure at the way in which we Christian citizens consort with the
heathen, just as if no gulf divided us——
POTAMON.
You refer to that placard in the market-places? I too have read it. And
I hold that, as there is both true and false gold in the world——
EUNAPIUS.
——we ought not to clip every one with the same shears; that is my way of
thinking. There are still zealous souls among us, praise be to God!
PHOCION.
We are far from being zealous enough, dear brethren! See how boldly
these scoffers hold up their heads. How many of this rabble, think you,
bear the sign of the cross or of the fish on their arms?
POTAMON.
Not many—and yet they actually swarm in front of the Imperial Chapel——
PHOCION.
——on such a thrice-sacred night as this——
EUNAPIUS.
——blocking the way for true sons of the Church——
A PAINTED WOMAN.
[_In the crowd._] Are Donatists true sons of the Church?
PHOCION.
What? A Donatist? Are you a Donatist?
EUNAPIUS.
What then? Are not you one?
PHOCION.
I? I? May the lightning blast your tongue!
POTAMON.
[_Making the sign of the cross._] May plague and boils——!
PHOCION.
A Donatist! You carrion! You rotten tree!
POTAMON.
Right, right!
PHOCION.
You brand for Satan’s furnace!
POTAMON.
Right! Give it him; give it him, dear brother.
PHOCION.
[_Pushing the Goldsmith away._] Hold your tongue get you behind me. I
know you now;—you are Potamon the Manichæan!
EUNAPIUS.
A Manichæan? A stinking heretic! Faugh, faugh!
POTAMON.
[_Holding up his paper lantern._] Heyday! Why, you are Phocion the Dyer,
of Antioch! The Cainite!
EUNAPIUS.
Woe is me, I have held communion with falsehood!
PHOCION.
Woe is me, I have helped a son of Satan!
EUNAPIUS.
[_Boxing his ear._] Take that for your help!
PHOCION.
[_Returning the blow._] Oh, you abandoned hound!
POTAMON.
Accursed, accursed be ye both!
[_A general fight; laughter and derision among the onlookers._
THE CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD.
[_Calls to the soldiers._] The Emperor comes!
[_The combatants are parted and carried with the stream of other
worshippers into the church._
HYMN OF PRAISE.
[_From the high altar._]
The Serpent is hurled
To the deepest abyss;—
The Lamb rules the world,—
All is peace, all is bliss!
_The Court enters in stately procession from the left. Priests with
censers go before; after them men-at-arms and torch-bearers,
courtiers and bodyguards. In their midst the EMPEROR CONSTANTIUS,
a man of thirty-four, of distinguished appearance, beardless, with
brown curly hair; his eyes have a dark, distrustful expression;
his gait and whole deportment betray uneasiness and debility.
Beside him, on his left, walks the EMPRESS EUSEBIA, a pale,
delicate woman, the same age as the Emperor. Behind the imperial
pair follows PRINCE JULIAN, a not yet fully developed youth of
nineteen. He has black hair and the beginnings of a beard,
sparkling brown eyes with a rapid glance; his court-dress sits
badly upon him; his manners are notably awkward and abrupt. The
Emperor’s sister, the PRINCESS HELENA, a voluptuous beauty of
twenty-five, follows, accompanied by maidens and older women.
Courtiers and men-at-arms close the procession. The Emperor’s
body-slave, MEMNON, a heavily-built, magnificently-dressed
Ethiopian, is among them._
THE EMPEROR.
[_Stops suddenly, turns round to_ PRINCE JULIAN, _and asks sharply._]
Where is Gallus?
JULIAN.
[_Turning pale._] Gallus? What would you with Gallus?
THE EMPEROR.
There, I caught you!
JULIAN.
Sire——!
THE EMPRESS.
[_Seizing the EMPEROR’S hand._] Come; come!
THE EMPEROR.
Conscience cried aloud. What are you two plotting?
JULIAN.
We?
THE EMPEROR.
You and he!
THE EMPRESS.
Oh, come; come, Constantius!
THE EMPEROR.
So black a deed! What did the oracle answer?
JULIAN.
The oracle! By my Holy Redeemer——
THE EMPEROR.
If any one maligns you, he shall pay for it at the stake. [_Draws the
PRINCE aside._] Oh, let us hold together, Julian! Dear kinsman, let us
hold together!
JULIAN.
Everything lies in your hands, my beloved lord!
THE EMPEROR.
My hands——!
JULIAN.
Oh, stretch them in mercy over us!
THE EMPEROR.
My hands? What was in your mind as to my hands?
JULIAN.
[_Grasps his hands and kisses them._] The Emperor’s hands are white and
cool.
THE EMPEROR.
What else should they be? What was in your mind? There I caught you
again!
JULIAN.
[_Kisses them again._] They are like rose-leaves in this moonlight
night.
THE EMPEROR.
Well, well, well, Julian!
THE EMPRESS.
Forward; it is time.
THE EMPEROR.
To go in before the presence of the Lord! I—I! Oh, pray for me Julian!
They will offer me the consecrated wine. I see it! It glitters in the
golden chalice like serpents’ eyes—— [_Shrieks._] Bloody eyes——! Oh,
Jesus Christ, pray for me!
THE EMPRESS.
The Emperor is ill——!
THE PRINCESS HELENA.
Where is Caesarius? The physician, the physician—summon him!
THE EMPRESS.
[_Beckons._] Memnon, good Memnon!
[_She speaks in a low voice to the slave._
JULIAN.
[_Softly._] Sire, have pity, and send me far from here.
THE EMPEROR.
Where would you go?
JULIAN.
To Egypt. I would fain go to Egypt, if you think fit. So many go
thither—into the great solitude.
THE EMPEROR.
Into the great solitude? Ha! In solitude one broods. I forbid you to
brood.
JULIAN.
I will not brood, if only you will let me——Here my anguish of soul
increases day by day. Evil thoughts flock around me. For nine days I
have worn a hair shirt, and it has not protected me; for nine nights I
have lashed myself with thongs, but scourging does not banish them.
THE EMPEROR.
We must be steadfast, Julian! Satan is very busy in all of us. Speak
with Hekebolius——
THE SLAVE MEMNON.
[_To the EMPEROR._] It is time now——
THE EMPEROR.
No, no, I will not——
MEMNON.
[_Seizing him by the wrist._] Come, gracious lord;—come, I say.
THE EMPEROR.
[_Draws himself up, and says with dignity._] Forward to the house of the
Lord!
MEMNON.
[_Softly._] The other matter afterwards——
THE EMPEROR.
[_To JULIAN._] I must see Gallus.
[_JULIAN folds his hands in supplication to the EMPRESS behind
the EMPEROR’S back._
THE EMPRESS.
[_Hastily and softly._] Fear nothing!
THE EMPEROR.
Remain without. Come not into the church with those thoughts in your
mind. When you pray before the altar, it is to call down evil upon
me.—Oh, lay not that sin upon your soul, my beloved kinsman!
[_The procession moves forward towards the church. On the steps,
beggars, cripples, and blind men crowd round the EMPEROR._
A PARALYTIC.
Oh, mightiest ruler on earth, let me touch the hem of thy garment, that
I may become whole.
A BLIND MAN.
Pray for me, anointed of the Lord, that my sight may be restored!
THE EMPEROR.
Be of good cheer, my son!—Memnon, scatter silver among them. In, in!
[_The Court moves forward into the church, the doors of which
are closed; the crowd gradually disperses, PRINCE JULIAN
remaining behind in one of the avenues._
JULIAN.
[_Looking towards the church._] What would he with Gallus? On this
sacred night he cannot think to——! Oh, if I did but know—— [_He turns
and jostles against the blind man, who is departing._] Look where you
go, friend!
THE BLIND MAN.
I am blind, my lord!
JULIAN.
Still blind! Can you not yet see so much as yonder glittering star? Fie!
man of little faith! Did not God’s anointed promise to pray for your
sight?
THE BLIND MAN.
Who are you, that mock at a blind brother?
JULIAN.
A brother in unbelief and blindness.
[_He is about to go off to the left._
A VOICE.
[_Softly, among the bushes behind him._] Julian, Julian!
JULIAN.
[_With a cry._] Ah!
THE VOICE.
[_Nearer._] Julian!
JULIAN.
Stand, stand;—I am armed. Beware!
A YOUNG MAN.
[_Poorly clad, and with a traveller’s staff, appears among the trees._]
Hush! It is I——
JULIAN.
Stand where you are! Do not come near me, fellow!
THE YOUNG MAN.
Oh, do you not remember Agathon——?
JULIAN.
Agathon! What say you? Agathon was a boy——
AGATHON.
Six years ago.—I knew you at once.
[_Coming nearer._
JULIAN.
Agathon;—by the holy cross, but I believe it is!
AGATHON.
Look at me; look well——
JULIAN.
[_Embracing and kissing him._] Friend of my childhood! Playmate! Dearest
of them all! And you are here? How wonderful! You have come all the long
way over the mountains, and then across the sea,—the whole long way from
Cappadocia?
AGATHON.
I came two days ago, by ship, from Ephesus. Oh, how I have sought in
vain for you these two days. At the palace gates the guards would not
let me pass, and——
JULIAN.
Did you speak my name to any one? or say that you were in search of me?
AGATHON.
No, I dared not, because——
JULIAN.
There you did right; never let any one know more than you needs must——.
Come hither, Agathon; out into the full moonlight, that I may see
you.—How you have grown, Agathon;—how strong you look.
AGATHON.
And you are paler.
JULIAN.
I cannot thrive in the air of the palace. I think it is unwholesome
here.—’Tis far otherwise at Makellon. Makellon lies high. No other town
in Cappadocia lies so high; ah, how the fresh snow-winds from the Taurus
sweep over it——! Are you weary, Agathon?
AGATHON.
Oh, in no wise.
JULIAN.
Let us sit down nevertheless. It is so quiet and lonely here. Close
together; so! [_Draws him down upon a seat beside the balustrade._]—“Can
any good thing come out of Cappadocia,” they say. Yes—friends can come.
Can anything be better?
[_Looks long at him._
How was it possible that I did not know you at once? Oh, my beloved
treasure, is it not just as when we were boys——?
AGATHON.
[_Sinking down before him._] I at your feet, as of old.
JULIAN.
No, no, no——!
AGATHON.
Oh, let me kneel thus!
JULIAN.
Oh, Agathon, it is a sin and a mockery to kneel to me. If you but knew
how sinful I have become. Hekebolius, my beloved teacher, is sorely
concerned about me, Agathon. He could tell you——
How thick and moist your hair has grown; and how it curls.—But
Mardonius—how goes it with him? His hair must be almost white now?
AGATHON.
It is snow-white.
JULIAN.
How well Mardonius could interpret Homer! I am sure my old Mardonius has
not his like at that.—Heroes embattled against heroes—and the gods above
fanning the flames. I saw it all, as with my eyes.
AGATHON.
Then your mind was set on being a great and victorious warrior.
JULIAN.
They were happy times, those six years in Cappadocia. Were the years
longer then than now? It seems so, when I think of all they contained——
Yes, they were happy years. We at our books, and Gallus on his Persian
horse. He swept over the plain like the shadow of a cloud.—Oh, but one
thing you must tell me. The church——?
AGATHON.
The church? Over the Holy Mamas’s grave?
JULIAN.
[_Smiling faintly._] Which Gallus and I built Gallus finished his aisle;
but I——; mine never fully prospered.—How has it gone on since?
AGATHON.
Not at all. The builders said it was impossible as you had planned it.
JULIAN.
[_Thoughtfully._] No doubt, no doubt. I wronged them in thinking them
incapable. Now I know why it was not to be. I must tell you,
Agathon;—Mamas was a false saint.
AGATHON.
The Holy Mamas?
JULIAN.
That Mamas was never a martyr. His whole legend was a strange delusion.
Hekebolius has, with infinite research, arrived at the real truth, and I
myself have lately composed a slight treatise on the subject—a treatise,
my Agathon, which certain philosophers are said, strangely enough, to
have mentioned with praise in the lecture-rooms——
The Lord keep my heart free from vanity! The evil tempter has countless
wiles; one can never know——.
That Gallus should succeed and I fail! Ah, my Agathon, when I think of
that church-building, I see Cain’s altar——
AGATHON.
Julian!
JULIAN.
God will have none of me, Agathon!
AGATHON.
Ah, do not speak so! Was not God strong in you when you led me out of
the darkness of heathendom, and gave me light over all my days—child
though you then were!
JULIAN.
All that is like a dream to me.
AGATHON.
And yet so blessed a truth.
JULIAN.
[_Sadly._] If only it were so now!—Where did I find the words of fire?
The air seemed full of hymns of praise—a ladder from earth to
heaven—[_Gazes straight before him._] Did you see it?
AGATHON.
What?
JULIAN.
The star that fell; there, behind the two cypresses. [_Is silent a
moment, then suddenly changes his tone._] Have I told you what my mother
dreamed the night before I was born?
AGATHON.
I do not recall it.
JULIAN.
No, no, I remember—I heard of it after we parted.
AGATHON.
What did she dream?
JULIAN.
My mother dreamed that she gave birth to Achilles.
AGATHON.
[_Eagerly._] Is your faith in dreams as strong as ever?
JULIAN.
Why do you ask?
AGATHON.
You shall hear; it concerns what has driven me to cross the sea——
JULIAN.
You have a special errand here? I had quite forgotten to ask you——
AGATHON.
A strange errand; so strange that I am lost in doubt and disquietude.
There is so much I should like to know first—about life in the
city—about yourself—and the Emperor——
JULIAN.
[_Looks hard at him._] Tell me the truth, Agathon—with whom have you
spoken before meeting me?
AGATHON.
With no one.
JULIAN.
When did you arrive?
AGATHON.
I have told you—two days ago.
JULIAN.
And already you want to know——? What would you know about the Emperor?
Has any one set you on to——? [_Embraces him._] Oh, forgive me, Agathon,
my friend!
AGATHON.
What? Why?
JULIAN.
[_Rises and listens._] Hush!—No, it was nothing—only a bird in the
bushes——
I am very happy here. Wherefore should you doubt it? Have I not all my
family gathered here? at least—all over whom a gracious Saviour has held
his hand.
AGATHON.
And the Emperor is as a father to you?
JULIAN.
The Emperor is beyond measure wise and good.
AGATHON.
[_Who has also risen._] Julian, is the rumour true that you are one day
to be the Emperor’s successor?
JULIAN.
[_Hastily._] Speak not of such dangerous matters. I know not what
foolish rumours are abroad.—Why do you question me so much? Not a word
will I answer till you have told me what brings you to Constantinople.
AGATHON.
I come at the bidding of the Lord God.
JULIAN.
If you love your Saviour or your salvation, get you home again. [_Leans
over the balustrade and listens._] Speak softy; a boat is coming in——
[_Leads him over towards the other side._
What would you here? Kiss the splinter of the holy cross?—Get you home
again, I say! Know you what Constantinople has become in these last
fifteen months? A Babylon of blasphemy.—Have you not heard—do you not
know that Libanius is here?
AGATHON.
Ah, Julian, I know not Libanius.
JULIAN.
Secluded Cappadocian! Happy region, where his voice and his teaching
have found no echo.
AGATHON.
Ah, he is one of those heathen teachers of falsehood——?
JULIAN.
The most dangerous of them all.
AGATHON.
Surely not more dangerous than Aedesius of Pergamus?
JULIAN.
Aedesius!—who now thinks of Aedesius of Pergamus? Aedesius is in his
dotage——
AGATHON.
Is he more dangerous than even that mysterious Maximus?
JULIAN.
Maximus? Do not speak of that mountebank. Who knows anything certain of
Maximus?
AGATHON.
He avers that he has slept three years in a cave beyond Jordan.
JULIAN.
Hekebolius holds him an impostor, and doubtless he is not far wrong——
No, no, Agathon—Libanius is the most dangerous. Our sinful earth has
writhed, as it were, under this scourge. Portents foretold his coming. A
pestilential sickness slew men by thousands in the city. And then, when
it was over, in the month of November, fire rained from heaven night by
night. Nay, do not doubt it, Agathon! I have myself seen the stars break
from their spheres, plunge down towards earth, and burn out on the way.
Since then he has lectured here, the philosopher, the orator. All
proclaim him the king of eloquence; and well they may. I tell you he is
terrible. Youths and men flock around him; he binds their souls in
bonds, so that they must follow him; denial flows seductively from his
lips, like songs of the Trojans and the Greeks——
AGATHON.
[_In terror._] Oh, you too have sought him Julian!
JULIAN.
[_Shrinking back._] I!—God preserve me from such a sin. Should any
rumours come to your ears, believe them not. ’Tis not true that I have
sought out Libanius by night, in disguise. All contact with him would be
a horror to me. Besides, the Emperor has forbidden it, and Hekebolius
still more strictly.—All believers who approach that subtle man fall
away and turn to scoffers. And not they alone. His words are borne from
mouth to mouth, even into the Emperor’s palace. His airy mockery, his
incontrovertible arguments, his very lampoons seem to blend with my
prayers;—they are to me like those monsters in the shape of birds who
befouled all the food of a pious wandering hero of yore. I sometimes
feel with horror that my gorge rises at the true meat of the Word——
[_With an irrepressible outburst._] Were the empire mine, I would send
you the head of Libanius on a charger!
AGATHON.
But how can the Emperor tolerate this? How can our pious, Christian
Emperor——?
JULIAN.
The Emperor? Praised be the Emperor’s faith and piety! But the Emperor
has no thoughts for anything but this luckless Persian war. All minds
are full of it. No one heeds the war that is being waged here, against
the Prince of Golgotha. Ah, my Agathon, it is not now as it was two
years ago. Then the two brothers of the Mystic Maximus had to pay for
their heresies with their lives. You do not know what mighty allies
Libanius has. One or other of the lesser philosophers is now and then
driven from the city; on him no one dares lay a finger. I have begged, I
have implored both Hekebolius and the Empress to procure his banishment.
But no, no!—What avails it to drive away the others? This one man
poisons the air for all of us. Oh, thou my Saviour, if I could but flee
from all this abomination of heathendom! To live here is to live in the
lion’s den——
AGATHON.
[_Eagerly._] Julian—what was that you said?
JULIAN.
Yes, yes; only a miracle can save us?
AGATHON.
Oh, then listen! That miracle has happened.
JULIAN.
What mean you?
AGATHON.
You shall hear, Julian; for now I can no longer doubt that it is you it
concerns. What sent me to Constantinople was a vision——
JULIAN.
A vision, you say!
AGATHON.
A heavenly revelation——
JULIAN.
Oh, for God’s pity’s sake, speak!—Hush, do not speak. Wait—some one is
coming. Stand here, quite carelessly;—look unconcerned.
_Both remain standing beside the balustrade. A tall, handsome,
middle-aged man, dressed, according to the fashion of the
philosophers, in a short cloak, enters by the avenue on the left.
A troop of youths accompanies him, all in girt-up garments, with
wreaths of ivy in their hair, and carrying books, papers and
parchments. Laughter and loud talk among them as they approach._
THE PHILOSOPHER.
Let nothing fall into the water, my joyous Gregory! Remember, what you
carry is more precious than gold.
JULIAN.
[_Standing close beside him._] Your pardon,—is aught that a man may
carry more precious than gold?
THE PHILOSOPHER.
Can you buy back the fruits of your life for gold?
JULIAN.
True; true. But why, then, do you entrust them to the treacherous
waters?
THE PHILOSOPHER.
The favour of man is more treacherous still.
JULIAN.
That word was wisdom. And whither do you sail with your treasures?
THE PHILOSOPHER.
To Athens.
[_He is about to pass on._
JULIAN.
[_With suppressed laughter._] To Athens! Then, oh man of wealth, you do
not own your own riches.
THE PHILOSOPHER.
[_Stops._] How so?
JULIAN.
Is it the part of a wise man to take owls to Athens?
THE PHILOSOPHER.
My owls cannot endure the church-lights here in the imperial city. [_To
one of the young men._] Give me your hand, Sallust.
[_Is about to descend the steps._
SALLUST.
[_Half-way down the steps, whispers._] By the gods, it is _he_!
THE PHILOSOPHER.
He——?
SALLUST.
On my life, ’tis he! I know him;—I have seen him with Hekebolius.
THE PHILOSOPHER.
Ah!
[_He looks at Julian with furtive intentness; then goes a step
towards him and says_:
You smiled just now. At what did you smile?
JULIAN.
When you complained of the church-lights, I wondered whether it were not
rather the imperial light of the lecture-halls that shone too bright in
your eyes.
THE PHILOSOPHER.
Envy cannot hide under the short cloak.
JULIAN.
What cannot hide shows forth.
THE PHILOSOPHER.
You have a sharp tongue, noble Galilean.
JULIAN.
Why Galilean? What proclaims me a Galilean?
THE PHILOSOPHER.
Your court apparel.
JULIAN.
There is a philosopher beneath it; for I wear a very coarse shirt.—But
tell me, what do you seek in Athens?
THE PHILOSOPHER.