FURIA. [Enters from the opposite side.]
Oh, hated walls,--witnesses of my anguish.
Home of the torment I must suffer still!
My hopes and cherished aspirations languish
Within my bosom,--now with feverish chill
Pervaded, now with all the heat of passion,
More hot and burning than yon vestal fire.

FURIA. Ah, what a fate! And what was my transgression
That chained me to this temple-prison dire,--
That robbed my life of every youthful pleasure,--
In life's warm spring each innocent delight?

FURIA. Yet tears I shall not shed in undue measure;
Hatred and vengeance shall my heart excite.

CATILINE. [Comes forward.]
Not even for me, my Furia, do you cherish
Another feeling,--one more mild than this?

FURIA. Ye gods! you, reckless man,--you here again?
Do you not fear to come--?

CATILINE. I know no fear.
'Twas always my delight to mock at danger.

FURIA. Oh, splendid! Such is also my delight;--
This peaceful temple here I hate the more,
Because I live in everlasting calm,