Ah, lose no time, time now has fleetest wings.

CLEON.
Full soon to thee thy prayer Severus brings.

(Exit Cleon. Guardsmen retire to background.)

POLY.
The fount is pure, yet bitter waters flow,
Sin taints--men poison what was made all fair.
They will not choose immortal streams: they go
To seek for pleasure--but find only care:
Their pleasure wed to strife--ah, death the gate of life,--
Christ's servants, none but they His crown shall wear!
So pain
Is gain:
Count not the cost!
The world well lost,
His Heaven to share!
O Pleasure, think not that I sigh for thee,
Thy charms, that once enslaved, no more delight;
In Christ's dear name I bid the tempter flee,
His foes are mine,--unlovely in my sight.
The mighty from their seat He hurls beneath His feet,
His fan is in His hand, His vengeful sword is bright.
Their crown
Cast down.
All hopes most dear
They cherish here
Shall end in night.