We cannot wait, Tribune. He will come. We cannot wait any longer, Tribune! He will come!...

[Messala is mortally injured after being trampled in the chariot race] Doctor: We cannot wait, Tribune. Messala: [softly] He will come. [he convulses with pain; they hold him down] Doctor: We cannot wait any longer, Tribune! Messala: [shouts] He will come! He will come. I have sent for him, and he will come! Doctor: If you wish us to keep you alive, we have to go to work *now*, Tribune. Do you understand? Messala: Cut the legs off me... Not yet. Not till I've seen him. I can't receive him with half a body! [Drusus and the surgeon share a look; they begin binding Messala in preparation for amputation] Messala: [struggling] NO! [Judah appears in the doorway] Messala: I told you, Drusus; I told you! There he is. [Judah approaches and stands over Messala] Messala: Triumph c... triumph complete, Judah. The race won, the enemy destroyed. Judah Ben-Hur: I see no enemy. Messala: What do you think you see? The smashed body of a wretched animal? There's enough of a man still left here for you to hate. Let me help you. [he convulses with pain] Messala: You think they're dead, your mother and sister? Dead, and the race over? It isn't over, Judah. They're not dead. Judah Ben-Hur: [leaning closer] Where are they? [pause] Judah Ben-Hur: Where are they? WHERE ARE THEY? Messala: [with grim satisfaction] Look... look for them... in the Valley... of the Lepers! If you can recognize them! [Judah doubles over with grief] Messala: It goes on. It goes on, Judah. The race... the race... is not... over! [he dies]