PSY. Follow the king, my sisters; dry his tears, solace his grief. You would fill him with alarm were you to, expose yourselves to my misfortune. Preserve for him whatever he possesses still; the serpent I expect might prove hurtful to you, and draw you in the same fate as myself; nay, through _your_ death might cause me a second death. Me alone has heaven condemned to his poisonous breath; nothing could save me; and I need no example to die. AGL. Grudge us not this cruel privilege of mingling our tears with your sorrows; suffer our sighs to answer your last sighs; accept this last pledge of our tender love. PSY. 'Tis but to lose yourselves to no purpose. CID. 'Tis to hope for a miracle in your favour, or to accompany you to the tomb. PSY. What room is there for hope after such an oracle? AGL. An oracle is ever veiled in obscurity; the more we believe that we know its meaning, the less do we understand it. Perhaps, after all, you must expect from it nothing but glory and happiness. Suffer us, dear sister, to behold this mortal dread deceived by a worthy issue; or at least let us die with you, if heaven does not show itself more propitious to our prayers. PSY. Dear sister, lend a readier ear to nature's voice, which summons you to stand by the king. You love me too much, and duty murmurs; you know its unavoidable laws. A father ought to be dearer to you than myself; become both the mainstays of his old age. A thousand kings, a thousand rival kings, cherish love for you; you both owe your father a son-in-law and grandchildren. A thousand kings vie with each other to whisper their vows to you. Me alone the oracle demands, and alone, too, I will die, if I can, without weakness, or, if not, at least without you as witnesses of that little which nature has left me. AGL. Then by sharing your woe we annoy you! CID. I dare go somewhat further, we offend you! PSY. No; but you add to my torture, and perhaps increase the wrath of heaven. AGL. It is your will; we go. May that same heaven, more just, and less severe, decree for you the fate we desire, and for which our sincere friendship, in spite of you and of the oracle, still hopes! PSY. Farewell. This hope, these vows, my sisters, none of the gods will ever fulfil. SCENE III.--PSYCHE (_alone_).