But from despair's deep breast he plucks a star benign,
This--hope's fair fruit, contentment, plenty, ease,
Brings joy from grief, to crown a lasting peace.
The Emperor holds him as his dearest friend,
And doth Severus to Armenia send--
To offer up to Mars, and mighty Jove,
'Mid feast and sacrifice, his thanks and love.

FELIX.
Ah, Fortune, turn thy wheel, else I misfortune meet!

ALBIN.
This news I learn'd from one of great Severus' suite:
Thence, swiftly here, the tale to tell I sped.

FELIX.
He who once vainly wooed, hopes now to wed.
The sacrifice, the offering, all are feigned,
All but the suit, which lightly I disdained.

PAUL.
Yes, this may be, for ah! he loved me well!

FELIX.
What room for hope? Such wrath is child of hell.
Before his righteous ire I shrink, I cower;
Revenge I dread--and vengeance linked with power
Unnerves me quite.

PAUL.