FELIX. His soul thou canst not read--tho' noble heart he feigns. The father he abhors,--the daughter he disdains! What Polyeucte won he sought: his suit denied, Severus sues no more,--I know his pride. His words, his prayers, his threats for Polyeucte plead, His _tongue_ says, 'Listen, or be lost indeed!' Unskilled the fowler who his snare reveals: If at the bait I snatch--my doom is sealed: Too plain, too coarse, this web for any fly-- Shall I this spider hail in my fatuity? His wrath is wrath arranged, his generous fire is nursed, That I, at Decius' hand, may meet the doom accurst, If I should pardon grant--that grace my crime would be, For he the spoil would reap of my credulity. No simpleton am I, each promise to believe, Words--oaths--are but the tools wherewith all men deceive; Too oft escaped am I to be so lightly caught; I know that words are wind. I know that wind is naught. The trapper shall be trapped,--the biter shall be bit, Unravelled is the web that he, poor fool, hath knit! ALBIN. Jove! What a plague to thee is this mistrust! FELIX. Nay, those at court must fence; their weapons never rust, If once thou yield the clue to thread the maze, The sequence is most plain--the man betrayed betrays; Severus, and his gifts, alike I fear! If Polyeucte still to reason close his ear, Severus' love is hate--his peace is strife-- First law of nature this, 'Preserve thy life!' ALBIN. Ah, let Pauline at least thy grace obtain! FELIX. If Decius grace withhold, my pardon vain! And--far from saving this rebellious son-- Behold us all alike entrapped, undone! ALBIN. Severus' promise---- FELIX. He can never keep! For Decius' rage and hatred never sleep: If for that sect abhorred Severus plead, He trebles loss--so are we lost indeed! One only way is ours,--that way I try: (To Guards) Bring Polyeucte and if he still defy, Self-doomed, insensate, this my proffered grace, He shall the death he wooes forthwith embrace! ALBIN. Ah, this is stern! FELIX. 'Tis stern, 'tis just--as fate; When justice drags a halting foot, too late, She is not justice--for the vengeful mob (Whose hearts for Polyeucte ne'er cease to throb), Usurps her place, and, spurning curb and rein, The felon crowns, and all our work is vain. My sceptre trembles, and all insecure Totters my crown,--a prey for every boor. Then, swift, Severus hears the welcome news, The jaundiced mind of Decius to abuse. Shall I, the rabble's lord, obey the rabble's will? ALBIN. Who ill in all around foresees,--but doubles ill. Each prop thou hast is but a sword to pierce; If Polyeucte hold their heart, the people fierce Will gather fiercer courage from despair.