Down his red bolts on the world,
And Apollo would not grant them,
He the so-called god of fire;
From the independent action
Of the two does it not follow
One of them must be the vanquished? 
Then they cannot be called gods,
Gods whose wills are counteracted. 
One is God whom I adore . . . 
And He is, in fine, that martyr
Who has died for love of thee!—­
Since then, thou hast said, so adverse
Was thy proud disdain, one only
Thou couldst love with love as ardent
Almost as his own, was he
Who would . . .

Daria. 
                Oh! proceed no farther,
Hold, delay thee, listen, stay,
Do not drive my brain distracted,
Nor confound my wildered senses,
Nor convulse my speech, my language,
Since at hearing such a mystery
All my strength appears departed. 
I do not desire to argue
With thee, for, I own it frankly,
I am but an ignorant woman,
Little skilled in such deep matters. 
In this law have I been born,
In it have been bred:  the chances
Are that in it I shall die: 
And since change in me can hardly
Be expected, for I never
At thy bidding will disparage
My own gods, here stay in peace. 
Never do I wish to hearken
To thy words again, or see thee,
For even falsehood, when apparelled
In the garb of truth, exerteth
Too much power to be disregarded. [Exit.

Chrysanthus. 
Stay, I cannot live without thee,
Or, if thou wilt go, the magnet
Of thine eye must make me follow. 
All my happiness is anchored
There.  Return, Daria. . . .

(Enter Carpophorus.)

Carpophorus. 
                             Stay. 
Follow not her steps till after
You have heard me speak.

Chrysanthus. 
                          What would you?

Carpophorus. 
I would reprimand your lapses,
Seeing how ungratefully
You, my son, towards me have acted.

Chrysanthus. 
I ungrateful!

Carpophorus. 
               You ungrateful,
Yes, because you have abandoned,
Have forgotten God’s assistance,
So effectual and so ample.

Chrysanthus. 
Do not say I have forgotten
Or abandoned it, wise master,
Since my memory to preserve it
Is as ’t were a diamond tablet.

Carpophorus. 
Think you that I can believe you,
If when having in this garment
Sought you out to train and teach you,
In the Christian faith and practice,
Until deep theology
You most learnedly have mastered;
If, when having seen your progress,
Your attention and exactness,
I in secret gave you baptism,
Which its mark indelibly stampeth;
You so great a good forgetting,
You for such a bliss so thankless,
With such shameful ease surrender
To this love-dream, this attachment? 
Did it strike you not, Chrysanthus,