_S. Cath._ Dearer than all the joys vain empire yields, Or than to youthful monarchs conquered fields! Before you came--my soul, All filled with heaven, did earthly joys disdain: But you pull back some part of me again. _Plac._ You see, sir, she can own a joy below. _Max._ It much imports me that this truth I know. _Fel._ How dreadful death does on the waves appear, Where seas we only see, and tempests hear! Such frightful images did then pursue My trembling soul, that scarce I thought of you. _Plac._ All circumstances to your wish combine: Her fear of death advances your design. [_To_ MAX. _Fel._ But to that only power we serve I prayed, Till He, who bid it rise, the tempest laid. _Max._ You are a Christian then! [_To_ FELICIA. For death this very hour you must prepare: I have decreed no Christian's life to spare. _Fel._ For death! I hope you but my courage try: Whatever I believe, I dare not die. Heaven does not, sure, that seal of faith require; Or, if it did, would firmer thoughts inspire. A woman's witness can no credit give To truths divine, and therefore I would live. _Max._ I cannot give the life which you demand: But that and mine are in your daughter's hand: Ask her, if she will yet her love deny, And bid a monarch, and her mother, die. _Fel._ Now, mighty prince, you cancel all my fear: My life is safe, when it depends on her. How can you let me languish thus in pain! [_To St_ CATH. Make haste to cure those doubts which yet remain. Speak quickly, speak, and ease me of my fear. _S. Cath._ Alas, I doubt it is not you I hear! Some wicked fiend assumes your voice and face, To make frail nature triumph over grace. It cannot be-- That she, who taught my childhood piety, Should bid my riper age my faith deny; That she, who bid my hopes this crown pursue, Should snatch it from me when 'tis just in view. _Fel._ Peace, peace! too much my age's shame you show: How easy 'tis to teach! how hard to do! My labouring thoughts are with themselves at strife: I dare not die, nor bid you save my life. _Max._ You must do one, and that without delay; Too long already for your death I stay. I cannot with your small concerns dispense; For deaths of more importance call me hence. Prepare to execute your office strait. [_To his Guards._ _Fel._ O stay, and let them but one minute wait! Such quick commands for death you would not give, If you but knew how sweet it were to live. _Max._ Then bid her love. _Fel._ Is duty grown so weak, [_To St_ CATHARINE. That love's a harder word than death to speak? _S. Cath._ Oh!