_Christ._ We are all now Of one opinion. _Theoph._ My best Christeta! Madam, if ever you did grace to worth, Vouchsafe your princely hands. _Artem._ Most willingly---- Do you refuse it? _Cal._ Let us first deserve it. _Theoph._ My own child still! here set our god; prepare The incense quickly: Come, fair Dorothea, I will myself support you;--now kneel down, And pay your vows to Jupiter. _Dor._ I shall do it Better by their example. _Theoph._ They shall guide you; They are familiar with the sacrifice. Forward, my twins of comfort, and, to teach her, Make a joint offering. _Christ._ Thus---- [_they both spit at the image._ _Cal._ And thus---- [_throw it down, and spurn it._ _Harp._ Profane, And impious! stand you now like a statue? Are you the champion of the gods? where is Your holy zeal, your anger? _Theoph._ I am blasted; And, as my feet were rooted here, I find I have no motion; I would I had no sight too! Or if my eyes can serve to any use, Give me, thou injured power! a sea of tears, To expiate this madness in my daughters; For, being themselves, they would have trembled at So blasphemous a deed in any other:---- For my sake, hold awhile thy dreadful thunder, And give me patience to demand a reason For this accursed act. _Dor._ 'Twas bravely done. _Theoph._ Peace, damn'd enchantress, peace!--I should look on you With eyes made red with fury, and my hand, That shakes with rage, should much outstrip my tongue, And seal my vengeance on your hearts;--but nature, To you that have fallen once, bids me again To be a father. Oh! how durst you tempt The anger of great Jove? _Dor._ Alack, poor Jove! He is no swaggerer; how still he stands! He'll take a kick, or any thing. _Sap._ Stop her mouth. _Dor._ It is the patient'st godling! do not fear him; He would not hurt the thief that stole away Two of his golden locks; indeed he could not: And still 'tis the same quiet thing. _Theoph._ Blasphemer! Ingenious cruelty shall punish this: Thou art past hope: but for you yet, dear daughters, Again bewitch'd, the dew of mild forgiveness May gently fall, provided you deserve it, With true contrition: be yourselves again; Sue to the offended deity. _Christ._ Not to be The mistress of the earth. _Cal._ I will not offer A grain of incense to it, much less kneel, Nor look on it but with contempt and scorn, To have a thousand years conferr'd upon me Of worldly blessings. We profess ourselves To be, like Dorothea, Christians; And owe her for that happiness. _Theoph._ My ears Receive, in hearing this, all deadly charms, Powerful to make man wretched. _Artem._ Are these they You bragg'd could convert others! _Sap._ That want strength To stand themselves! _Harp._ Your honour is engaged, The credit of your cause depends upon it; Something you must do suddenly. _Theoph._ And I will.