Sev monologue — Polyeucte

Unnatural sire, whose craft leads to the grave, The slaves of fear themselves alone enslave. Yes, Polyeucte is slain, and slain by thee,-- A sacrifice to greed and treachery. I offered rescue from the opening tomb, Base doubts enthralled thee, didst seal his doom; I prayed, I threatened, thou wouldst not believe, Deceiver thou, so must all men deceive. Thou thoughtst me coward, liar--thou shalt see All oaths Severus swears fulfilled shall be. Poor moth! I might have saved thee--nay, I planned to save, Thy perfidy the torch that marks thee for the grave. Drench earth in blood,--for Jove pour forth malignant zeal, The strokes that thou hast dealt redoubled shalt thou feel! I go: the storm shall break o'er this devoted land, From Jove the bolt?--maybe--but I direct his hand.