Many times I 've listened to him, Since so high-strung and abstracted Is his mind, he takes no note of Who goes in or who departeth. Once I heard him deprecating Some despotic beauty's hardness, Saying, "Since I die for thee, Thou thy favour sure wilt grant me". At another time he said, "Three in one, oh! how can that be?" Things which these same Christian people In their law hold quite established. Thus it is my life is troubled, Lost in doubts, emeshed, and tangled. If to freedom I restore him, I have little doubt that, darkened By the Christian treachery, he Will declare himself instanter Openly a Christian, which Would to me be such a scandal, That my blood henceforth were tainted, And my noble name were branded. If I leave him here in prison, So excessive is his sadness, So extreme his melancholy, That I fear 't will end in madness. In a word, I hold, my nephew, Hold it as a certain axiom, That these dark magician Christians Keep him bound by their enchantments; Who through hatred of my house, And my office to disparage, Now revenge themselves on me Through my only son Chrysanthus. Tell me, then, what shall I do; But before you give the answer Which your subtle wit may dictate, I would with your own eyes have thee See him first, you 'll then know better What my urgent need demandeth. Come, he 's not far off, his quarter Is adjoining this apartment; When you see him, I am certain You will think it a disaster Far less evil he should die, Than that in this cruel manner He should outrage his own blood, And my bright escutcheon blacken. [He opens a door, and Chrysanthus is seen seated in a chair, with his hands and feet in irons.] CLAUDIUS. Thus to see my friend, o'erwhelms me With a grief I cannot master. POLEMIUS. Stay, do not approach him nearer; For I would not he remarked thee, I would save him the disgrace Of being seen by thee thus shackled. CLAUDIUS. What his misery may dictate We can hear, nor yet attract him. CHRYSANTHUS. Was ever human fate so strange as mine? Were unmatched wishes ever mated so? Is it not enough to feel one form of woe, Without being forced 'neath opposite forms to pine? A triune God's mysterious power divine, From heaven I ask for life, that I may know, From heaven I ask for death, life's grisly foe, A fair one's favour in my heart to shrine: But how can death and life so well agree, That I can ask of heaven to end their strife, And grant them both in pitying love to me? Yet I will ask, though both with risks are rife, Neither shall hinder me, for heaven must be The arbiter of death as well as life. POLEMIUS. See now if I spoke the truth. CLAUDIUS. I am utterly distracted. (The door closes. POLEMIUS. Lest perhaps he should perceive us, Let us move a little further. Now advise me how to act, Since you see the grief that racks me.