MIN. But now to you, my real friends, I speak.
Son of Laertes, O conceal your sword,
For we have slain the Thracian chief, and seized
His coursers, but our foes have ta’en th’ alarm
And rush upon you, therefore fly with speed,
Fly to the naval ramparts. Why delay
To save your lives when hostile throngs approach?
[_Exit_ MINERVA.