Right, Judith's
house, with a tent on the roof. Left, houses. The street turns abruptly,
back left, along the wall of the city. Left centre, a built-up
vantage-point, from which the plain can be seen over the gates_.
TIME: _Fifth century B.C.
Towards evening_.
Ozias _is standing alone in the street, drinking from a leathern bottle.
Enter_ Chabris, _back left_.
OZIAS _(quickly, but with perfect calmness, hiding the bottle in his
garments_). Old man! It is years since I saw you. How came you past the
guard, old man?
CHABRIS. Old? Old? I am not yet a hundred. Who are you?
OZIAS. Ozias.
CHABRIS. Ah! So this is Ozias, the son of Ezbon. Before your father
could walk I have nursed him on my knee; and he was filled like the full
moon--with naughtiness.
OZIAS. What has brought you at last out of your house? Are you come to
prophesy once more?
CHABRIS. I have given up prophesying.
OZIAS. A profession full of risks.
CHABRIS. I pass my endless days in meditation and solitude.
OZIAS. That sounds much safer. How comely is the wisdom of old men!
CHABRIS. And what do you do, sprig?
OZIAS. Has none told you?
CHABRIS.
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