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Detested homicide! [Aside.)-And has thy heart
Felt for the wretched ?

Dio. Urgencies of state
Abridg'd his liberty ; but to his person
All honour hath been paid.

Eup. The righteous gods
Have mark'd thy ways, and will in time repay
Just retribution.

Dio. If to see your father,
If here to meet him in a fond embrace,
Will calm thy breast, and dry those beauteous tears,
A moment more shall bring him to your presence.

Eup. Ha ! lead him hither! Sir, to move him now,
Aged, infirm, worn out with toil and years--
No, let me seek him rather-If soft pity
Has touch'd your heart, oh! send me, send me to

him.
Dio. Control this wild alarm; with prudent care
Philotas shall conduct him; here I grant
The tender interview.

Eup. Disastrous fate!
Ruin impends !- This will discover all;
I'll perish first.
Though much I languish to behold my father,
Yet now it were not fit the sun goes down;
Night falls apace; soon as returning day-
Dio. This night, this very hour, you both must

meet,
Together you may serve the state and me.
Thou seest the havoc of wide wasting war ;
And more, full well you know, are still to bleed.
Thou may'st prevent their fate.

Eup. Oh! give the means,
And I will bless thee for it.

Dio. From a Greek
Torments have wrung the truth. Thy husband, Pho-

cion
Eup. Oh! say, speak of my Phocion! 1.

Aside

(ACT F.

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Dio. He; tis he
Hath 'kindled up this war; with treacherous arts
Inflam'd the states of Greece ; and now the traitor
Comes with a foreign aid to wrest my crown.

Eup. And does my Phocion share Timoleon's glory?

Dio. With him invests our walls, and bids rebellion
Erect her standard here.

Eup. Oh! bless him, gods !
Where'er my hero treads the paths of war,
List on his side; against the hostile javelin
Uprear his mighty buckler; to his sword
Lend the fierce whirlwind's rage, that he

may come
With wreaths of triumph, and with conquest crown'd,
And a whole nation's voice
Applaud my hero with a love like mine!

Dio. Ungrateful fair! Has not our sovereign will
On thy descendants fix'd Sicilia's crown?
Have I not vow'd protection to your boy?
Eup. From thee the crown! from thee! Euphra-

sia's children
Shall on a nobler basis found their rights;
On their own virtue, and a people's choice.

Dio. Misguided woman!

Eup. Ask of thee protection!
The father's valour shall protect his boy.

Dio. Rush not on sure destruction; ere too late
Accept our proffer'd grace. The terms are these :
Instant send forth a message to your husband;
Bid him draw off his Greeks, unmoor his fleet,
And measure back his way. Full well he knows
You and your father are my hostages ;
And for his treason both may answer.

Eup. Think'st thou then
So meanly of my Phocion ?-Dost thou deem him
Poorly wound up to a mere fit of valour,
To melt away in a weak woman's tear?
Oh! thou dost little know him; know'st but little
Of his exalted soul. With gen'rous ardour

1

Still will he urge the great, the glorious plan, And gain the ever honour'd bright reward, Which fame entwines around the patriot's brow, And bids for ever flourish on his tomb, For nations freed, and tyrants laid in dust. Dio. By Heav'n, this night Evander breathes his last. Eup. Better for him to sink at once to rest, Than linger thus beneath the gripe of famine, In a vile dungeon, scoop'd with barb'rous skill Deep in the flinty rock; a monument Of that fell malice, and that black suspicion, That mark'd your father's reign; a dungeon drear, Prepar'd for innocence!—Vice liv'd secure, It flourish'd, triumph'd, grateful to his heart; 'Twas virtue only could give umbrage; then, In that black period, to be great and good Was a state crime; the pow'rs of genius then Were a constructive treason. Dio. Now your father's doom Is fix'd; irrevocably fix’d. Eup. Thy doom, perhaps, May first be fix'd; the doom that ever waits The fell oppressor—from a throne usurp'd Hurl’d headlong down. Think of thy father's fate At Corinth, Dionysius! Dio. Ha! this night Evander dies; and thou, desested fair! Thou shalt behold him, while inventive cruelty Pursues his wearied life through every nerve. I scorn all dull delay. This very night Shall sate my great revenge. [Exit. Eup. This night, perhaps, Shall whelm thee down, no more to blast creation. My father, who inhabit'st with the dead, Now let me seek thee in the lonely tomb, And tremble there with anxious hope and fear

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Enter Phocion and MELANTHON.
Phoc. Each step I move, a grateful terror shakes.
My frame to dissolution.

Mel. Summon all
Thy wonted firmness; in that dreary vault
A living king is number'd with the dead.
I'll take my post, near where the pillar'd aisle
Supports the central dome, that no alarm
Surprise you in the pious act.

[Exit.
Phoc. If here
They both are found; if in Evander's armis
Euphrasia meets my search, the fates atone
For all my sufførings, all afllictions past.
Yes, I will seek them-ha!-the gaping tomb
Invites my steps—now, be propitious, Heaven!

[He enters the Tomb.

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Enter EUPHRASIA.
Eup. All hail, ye caves of horror!-In this gloom
Divine content can dwell, the heartfelt tear,
Which, as it falls, a father's trembling hand
Will catch, and wipe the sorrows froni my eye.
Thou Pow'r supreme! whose all-pervading mind
Guides this great frame of things; who now behold'st

me ;

Who, in that cave of death, art full as perfect
As in the gorgeous palace, now, while night
Broods o'er the world, I'll to thy sacred shrine,

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And supplicate thy mercies to my father.
Who's there?-Evander ? -Answer—tell me

speak

Enter Phocion, from the Tomb.
Phoc. What voice is that?-Melanthon!

Eup. Ha! those sounds !
Speak of Evander; tell me that he lives,
Or lost Euphrasia dies.

Phoc. Heart-swelling transport!
Art thou Euphrasia ? 'tis thy Phocion, love;
Thy husband comes.

Eup. Support me ;-reach thy hand,
Phoc. Once more I clasp her in this fond embrace!.
Eup. What miracle has brought thee to me?

Phoc. Love
Inspir'd my heart, and guided all my ways.
Eup. Oh, thou dear wanderer! But wherefore

here? Why in this place of woe? My tender little one, —. Say, is he safe ? Oh! satisfy a mother ; Speak of my child, or I go wild at once! Tell me his fate, and tell me all thy own.

Phoc. Your boy is safe, Euphrasia; lives to reign
In Sicily: Timoleon's gen'rous care
Protects him in his camp :-dispel thy fears ;
The gods once more will give him to thy arms.

Lup. My father lives sepulchred ere his time,
Here in Eudocia's tomb; let me conduct thee.
Phoc. I came this moment thence.
Eup. And saw Evander ?
Phoc. Alas! I found him not.

Eup. Not found him there?
And have they then--Have the fell murderers--Oh!

[Faints away. Phoc. I've been too rąsh ; revive, my love, revive; Thy Phocion calls; the gods will guard Evander, And save him to reward thy matchless virtue.

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