Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 5).djvu/467

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The fleet on fire! Cut off from home! Death before us!

False god, false god,—bid the storm to cease! bid the flames die down!

The storm increases. The fire is like a rolling sea

[Whispers.] Beware of the Phrygian regions.

[Shouts to the army.] Let the fleet burn! Within seven days you shall burn Ctesiphon.