Felix. 
     Let then this heir into his kingdom come!  No more!—­

     Paul. 
     O father!

     (Enter Albin.)

     Felix. 
     Albin, is it done?

     Albin. 
     It is,—­Nearchus’ frantic race is run!

     Felix. 
     And with what eye saw Polyeucte the sight?

     Albin. 
     With envious eye,—­as one who sees a light
     That lures him, moth-like, to devouring flame. 
     His heart is fixed, his mind is still the same.

     Paul. 
     ’Tis as I said—­oh, father, yet once more
     If thou hast ever loved me,—­I implore! 
     Let filial duty and obedience plead
     For his dear life!  To my last prayer give heed!

     Felix. 
     Too much thou lovest an unworthy lord!

     Paul. 
     Thou gavest him my hand, ’twas at thy word
     I gave both love and duty; what I give
     I take not back; oh, Polyeucte must live! 
     For his dear sake I quenched another flame
     Most pure.  Is he my lord alone in name? 
     O, by my blind and swift obedience paid
     To thy command—­be thy hard words unsaid! 
     I gave thee all a daughter had to give,
     Grant, father, this one prayer—­Let Polyeucte live! 
     By thy stern power, which now I only fear,
     Make thou that power benignant, honoured, dear! 
     Thou gav’st that gift unsought,—­that gift restore! 
     I claim it at the giver’s hand once more!

Felix.  Importunate!  Although my heart is soft, It is not wax,—­and these entreaties oft Repeated waste thy breath, and vex mine ear, For man is deaf to what he will not hear. I am the master! This let all men know, And if thou force that note thou’lt find ’tis so.  Prepare to see thy cursed Christian fool, Do thou caress when I have scourged the mule,—­ Go! vex no more a loving father’s ear, From Polyeucte’s self win what thou hold’st so dear.

     Paul. 
     In pity!——­

     Felix. 
     Leave me, leave me here alone!—­
     Say more—­my goaded heart will turn to stone;
     Vex me no more—­I will not be denied! 
     Go, save thy madman from his suicide!

     (Exit Pauline.)

     How met Nearchus death?

     Albin. 
     The fiend abhorred
     He hailed,—­embraced:  ‘For Christ!’ his latest word;
     No sigh, no tear,—­he passed without amaze
     Adown the narrow vale with upward gaze.

     Felix. 
     And he—­his friend?

     Albin. 
     Is, as I said, unmoved
     He looks on death but as a friend beloved,
     He clasped the scaffold as a guide most sure,
     And, in his prison, he can still endure.

     Felix. 
     Oh, wretched that I am!

     Albin. 
     All pity thee.