PAUL.
Thy son shall plead more loud than policy or war.
For mine is thine; O father, save thine own--

FELIX.
The son who is a traitor I disown!
For treason is a crime without redress,
'Gainst which all else sinks into nothingness.

PAUL.
Too great thy rigour!

FELIX.
Yet more great his guilt.

PAUL.
Too true my dream! Must his dear blood be spilt?
With Polyeucte, I too--thy child--shall fall!

FELIX.
The Gods--the Emperor--rule over all.

PAUL.
O hear our dying supplication--hear!

FELIX.
Not Jove alone, but Decius I fear:--
But why anticipate a doom so sad?
Shall this--his blindness--make thy Polyeucte mad?