_Theoph._ Yet, when I call to mind you never fail'd me In things more difficult, but have discover'd Deeds that were done thousand leagues distant from me, When neither woods, nor caves, nor secret vaults, No, nor the Power they serve, could keep these Christians Or from my reach or punishment, but thy magic Still laid them open; I begin again To be as confident as heretofore; It is not possible thy powerful art Should meet a check, or fail. _Enter the Priest of Jupiter, bearing an Image, and followed by_ CALISTA _and_ CHRISTETA. _Harp._ Look on the Vestals, The holy pledges that the gods have given you, Your chaste, fair daughters. Were 't not to upbraid A service to a master not unthankful, I could say these, in spite of your prevention, Seduced by an imagined faith, not reason, (Which is the strength of nature) quite forsaking The Gentile gods, had yielded up themselves To this new-found religion. This I cross'd, Discover'd their intents, taught you to use, With gentle words and mild persuasions, The power and the authority of a father, Set off with cruel threats; and so reclaim'd them: And, whereas they with torment should have died, (Hell's furies to me, had they undergone it!) [Aside. They are now votaries in great Jupiter's temple, And, by his priest instructed, grown familiar With all the mysteries, nay, the most abstruse ones, Belonging to his deity. _Theoph._ 'Twas a benefit, For which I ever owe you.--Hail, Jove's flamen! Have these my daughters reconciled themselves, Abandoning for ever the Christian way, To your opinion? _Priest._ And are constant in it. They teach their teachers with their depth of judgment, And are with arguments able to convert The enemies to our gods, and answer all They can object against us. _Theoph._ My dear daughters! _Cal._ We dare dispute against this new-sprung sect, In private or in public. _Harp._ My best lady, Perséver[19] in it. _Chris._ And what we maintain, We will seal with our bloods. _Harp._ Brave resolution! I e'en grow fat to see my labours prosper. _Theoph._ I young again. To your devotions. _Harp._ Do-- My prayers be present with you. [_Exeunt Priest_, CAL. _and_ CHRIS. _Theoph._ O my Harpax! Thou engine of my wishes, thou that steel'st My bloody resolutions, thou that arm'st My eyes 'gainst womanish tears and soft compassion, Instructing me, without a sigh, to look on Babes torn by violence from their mothers' breasts To feed the fire, and with them make one flame; Old men, as beasts, in beasts' skins torn by dogs; Virgins and matrons tire the executioners; Yet I, unsatisfied, think their torments easy-- _Harp._ And in that, just, not cruel.