POLY.
Ah, how my heart quails at that single word!
Thee, Felix, I o'ercame within my cell,
Laughed at thy threats if death and torture fell;
Yet hast thou still one arm to rouse my fears,
The rest I scorn, but dread thy daughter's tears!
One only talisman remains; great God, 'tis mine,
Sufficient for my every need His strength divine!
O thou, dear saint, thy scars all healed, white-robed, in
glory crowned,
Plead that I too may victory win, thou who hast victory found!
Nearchus, who hast clasped in Heaven that dear, that pierced hand,
Plead that thy friend, who wrestles here, may safely by thee stand!
Ye Guards, one last kind service, I would ask,
Well may ye grant it, 'tis an easy task:
I do not seek deliverance from these thralls,
(Looks at his chains.)
I do not care to scale my prison walls,
But, since three warriors armed can surely guard
One fettered man in safest watch and ward,
Go one, and beg of great Severus' grace
That he would deign to meet me face to face;
To him would I a secret now impart,
Which much concerns his joy and peace of heart.

CLEON.
On willing foot, my lord, do I obey.

POLY.
Severus must this kindly service pay;