[_They leave him; he sinks down on ground_.
Too late--thought myself wise--
A woman's dupe. Antonius, tell the Senate
I have been most true to Rome--would have been true
To _her_--if--if---- [_Falls as if dead_.
CAMMA (_coming and leaning over him_).
So falls the throne of an hour.
SYNORIX (_half rising_).
Throne? is it thou? the Fates are throned, not we--
Not guilty of ourselves--thy doom and mine--
Thou--coming my way too--Camma--good-night.
[_Dies_.
CAMMA (_upheld by weeping Priestesses_).
Thy way? poor worm, crawl down thine own black hole
To the lowest Hell. Antonius, is he there?
I meant thee to have follow'd--better thus.
Nay, if my people must be thralls of Rome,
He is gentle, tho' a Roman.
[_Sinks back into the arms of the Priestesses_.
ANTONIUS.
Thou art one
With thine own people, and tho' a Roman I
Forgive thee, Camma.
CAMMA (_raising herself_).
'CAMMA!'--why there again
I am most sure that some one call'd.
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