Or should we fail, and Fortune prove perverse,

Let it be never known how far we fail'd,

Lest Fools shou'd triumph, or our Foes rejoice.

Tenesco.

Tenesco.

The Life of Great Designs is Secrecy,

And in Affairs of State 'tis Honour's Guard;

For Wisdom cannot form a Scheme so well,

But Fools will laugh if it should prove abortive;

And our Designs once known, our Honour's made

Dependent on the Fickleness of Fortune.

Philip.

Philip.

What may your great and secret Purpose be,

That thus requires Concealment in its Birth?

Ponteach.

Ponteach.

To raise the Hatchet from its short Repose,

Brighten its Edge, and stain it deep with Blood;

To scourge my proud, insulting, haughty Foes,

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