THE MARTYR: A DRAMA.
433
Re-enter Portia, bursting from a Thicket close to them.
PORTIA.
SULPICIUS.
The song of syrens were less fatal. Charms
Of dire delusion, luring on to ruin,
Are mingled with the words that speak their faith;
They, who once hear them, flutter round destruction
With giddy fascination, like the moth,
Which, shorn of half its form, all scorch'd and shrivell'd,
Still to the torch returns. I will not listen;
No, Portia, nor shalt thou.
PORTIA.
For if you listen to him, you may save him,
And win him from his errors.
SULPICIUS.
Opposed to demon subtlety? Cordenius!
Cordenius Maro! I adjure thee, go!
Leave me; why would'st thou pull destruction on me?
On one who loved thee so, that tho' possess'd
