Upheld by him, e'en Fortune I defy
And yet I shrink!--for them, thrice base were I!

ALBIN.
Perish the word! It ne'er was made for thee,
But wilt thou deal just meed to treachery?

FELIX.
I go to Polyeucte's cell,--though my poor breath
Should there be spent in vain to avert his death;
Then, then my fated child her strength shall try.

ALBIN.
What wilt thou do if both he still defy?

FELIX.
O, press me not in agony so great!
To thee alone I turn--resistless Fate!




ACT IV--POLYEUCTE. CLEON. THREE OTHER GUARDS

POLY.
What is thy will?

CLEON.
Pauline would see my lord.