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SCENE XI.
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98

SCENE XI.

Themistocles
alone.
How oft, unstable Fortune, dost thou shift
Thy aspect thus; and vainly now would'st tempt me
To trust thy treacherous seeming.—No: too oft
I've prov'd thy smiles and frowns: thy favour still
I little heed, and hold thy wrath in scorn.
Uncertain Fortune ne'er beguiles,
Nor lures me with her harlot-smiles,
Nor warms with hope nor chills with fears.
I know that oft in vernal bowers
The serpent glides amidst the flowers;
I know that oft in midnight hours
We praise a star, when none appears.

[Exit.