May hold thee now, tomb to thy constancy.
The hope I cherished--fondled--now is flown
Severus will be king, and I o'erthrown;--
Shall I the gods by incense pacify?
Or by thy death? for thou, at last, must die!

POLY.
Incense might but incense; I cannot tell:

(Enter Pauline)

Pauline!

PAUL.
That word broke from thee like a knell;
Who seeks my doom to-day? Thou--or my sire?
Who fires the brand? Who lights the funeral pyre?
My father should, by nature, be my friend,
And lover's heart to love an ear should lend.
Who here is mine ally, and who my foe?
Who has a heart to feel?--this would I know.

FELIX.
Nay, to thy lord appeal.

(Pauline turns to Polyeucte)

POLY.
Severus wed!