Cynthia.
Mountains upon mountains seem
On my shoulders to be balanced.
Escarpin.
So it always is with those
Who make verses, or who chant them.
Chrysanthus.
Of the one God whom I worship
These are miracles, are marvels.
(Enter Daria.)
Daria.
Here, Chrysanthus, I have come . . .
Nisida.
Stay, Daria.
Cynthia.
Stay, 't is rashness
Here to come, for, full of wonders,
Full of terrors is this garden.
Escarpin.
Do not enter: awful omens
Threat'ning death await thy advent.