Chrysanthus.
Most severe will be the battle,
Upon one side their due praises
On the other side thy anger.
Daria.
I would have thee understand
That our gods are sorely damaged
By thy sentiments.
Chrysanthus.
And I
That those gods are false—mere phantoms.
Daria.
Then get ready for the conflict,
For I will not lower my standard
Save with victory or death.
Chrysanthus.
Though thou makest me thy captive,
Thou my firmness wilt not conquer.
Daria.
Then to arms! I say, to arms, then!
Chrysanthus.
Though the outposts of the soul,
The weak heart, by thee be captured;
Not so will the Understanding,
The strong warden who doth guard it.
Daria.
Thou 'lt believe me, if thou 'lt love me.