Felix monologue — Polyeucte

With reason greater than they know. Ah, me! Thought surges upon thought, and has its will, Care, gnawing upon care, my soul must kill; Love--hate--fear--pain: I am of each the prey, I grope for light, but never find the day! Oh, what I suffer thou canst not conceive, Each passion rages, but can ne'er relieve; For I have noble thoughts that die still-born, And I have thoughts so base my soul I scorn. I love the foolish wretch who is my son, I hate the folly which hath all undone; I mourn his death,--yet, if I Polyeucte save, I see of all my hopes the cruel grave! 'Gainst Gods and Emperor too sore the strife, For my renown I fear,--fear for my life. I must myself undo to save my son, For, should I spare him, then am I undone!