THE SOLDIER.
My errand here is but a humble prayer,
Which you will hear. I am a needy man,
One who has sacrificed his strength for Rome.
Now I am feeble, can no longer serve;
Unused my weapons rust away at home.
The hope of my old age was in a son,
Who labored hard and was my one support.
Alas,--in prison now he’s held for debt.
And not a ray of hope--. Oh, help me, master!
[Kneeling.]

THE SOLDIER.
If but a penny! I have gone on foot
From house to house; each door is long since closed.
I know not what to do--