Who would run safely, every step must guard;
The wife who danger courts but courts her fall
My husband, aid me!--I would tell thee all!
His worth, his charm, do my weak hearth enflame
A traitor here! And he is aye the same!
If I should gaze, and long--'gainst virtue, honour, sense,
The citadel I yield, and mine my own defence!
I know my virtues sure, and fair my fame,
But struggle is defeat,--and combat shame!

POLY.
Oh, true thy shield, thy victory is won,
He only who has lost thee is undone;
His noble grief the cost of all my bliss,
Ah, Cleopatra's pearl was naught to this!
The more my faults I see, the more thy truth I learn,
The more do I admire----

(Enter Cleon.)

CLEON.
My lord, the altars burn
With holy fire. The victim they prepare;
On thee alone they wait, our rites to share.

POLY.
Go, we do follow thee!

PAUL.
I cannot go;