Paul monologue — Polyeucte

O cruel! I can strangle pain no more! Is this the fruit of all thy heavenly lore? They say thy Christ His enemies did bless, Thou addest insult to my deep distress. How is my soul so dark--which was so fair?-- Thou call'dst me 'lovely'--'dear'--'beyond compare!'-- Of my bereavement have I said no word, I stilled my grief that I might soothe my lord! They say that love has wings, and all they say is true, For all thy love has flown; yet can I ne'er undo The vows I made, the troth I plighted binds me still! Thou fain wouldst quit thy wife, and thou shalt have thy will. Oh, but to leave my side with rapture, ecstasy, No jealous Christ can will: why grudge me one poor sigh? This joy, this transport fierce, endeavour to conceal. I do not share thy creed, but I, at least, can feel! Why gloat o'er heavenly gain, crowns, palms, I know not what-- Where Polyeucte is blest, but where Pauline is not? Soul, body, spirit, I am thy true wife, to own That I am but a bar to happiness unknown!