Near. 
     To deny would yield thine enemy the victory! 
     He loves to kill, and knows his deadliest dart
     Finds friend within the fort—­thy traitor heart!

     Enter Pauline and Stratonice

     Poly. 
     I needs must go, Pauline!  My love, good-bye! 
     I go but to return—­for thine am I!

     Paul. 
     Oh, why this haste to leave a loving wife? 
     Doth honour call?—­or fear’st thou for thy life?

     Poly. 
     For more, a thousandfold!

     Paul. 
     Great Gods above!

     Poly. 
     Thou hast my heart!  Let this content thy love!

     Paul. 
     You love and yet you leave me.  What am I? 
     Not mine to solve the dreary mystery!

     Poly. 
     I love thee more than self—­than life—­than fame
     But——­

     Paul. 
     There is something that thou dar’st not name. 
     Oh, on my knees I supplicate, I pray,
     Remove my darkness!—­turn my night to day!

     Poly. 
     Oh, dreams are naught!

     Paul. 
     Yet, when they tell of thee,
     I needs must listen, for I love!  Ah, me!

     Poly. 
     Take courage, dear one, ’tis but for an hour,
     Thy love must draw me back, for love hath power
     O’er all in earth and heaven.  My soul’s delight,
     I can no more!  My only safety—­flight!

     (Exeunt Polyeucte and Nearchus.)

     Paul. 
     Yes, go, despise my prayer—­my agony;
     Go, ruthless—­meet thy fate—­forewarned by me;
     Chase thy pursuer, herald thine own doom;
     Go, kiss the murderer’s hand, and hail the tomb! 
     Ah, Stratonice! for our boasted power
     As sovereigns o’er man’s heart!  Poor regents of an hour! 
     Faint, helpless, moonbeam—­light was all I gave,
     The sun breaks forth—­his queen becomes his slave! 
     Wooed?  Yes; as other queens I held my court
     Won—­but to lose my crown, and be the sport
     Of proud, absorbing and imperious man!

     STRAT. 
     Ah, man does what he wills—­we, what we can;
     He loves thee, lady!

     Paul. 
     Love should mate with trusts;
     He leaves me!

     STRAT. 
     Lady, ’tis because he must! 
     He loves thee with a love will never die,
     Then, if he leave thee, reason not the why: 
     Give him thy trust!  Oh, thou shalt have reward,
     For thee he hides the secret!  Let him guard
     Thy life beloved—­in fullest liberty. 
     The wife who wholly trusts alone is free! 
     One heart for thee and him—­one purpose sure,
     Yet this heart beats to dare—­and to endure. 
     The wife’s true heart must o’er the peril sigh
     Which meets his heart moved but to purpose high;
     Thy pain his pain, but