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Detested homicide! [Aside.)-And has thy heart
Dio. Urgencies of state
Eup. The righteous gods
Dio. If to see your father,
Eup. Ha ! lead him hither! Sir, to move him now,
Eup. Disastrous fate!
Eup. Oh! give the means,
Dio. From a Greek
Dio. He; tis he
Eup. And does my Phocion share Timoleon's glory?
Dio. With him invests our walls, and bids rebellion
Eup. Oh! bless him, gods !
Dio. Ungrateful fair! Has not our sovereign will
Dio. Misguided woman!
Eup. Ask of thee protection!
Dio. Rush not on sure destruction; ere too late
Eup. Think'st thou then
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
Enter Phocion and MELANTHON.
Mel. Summon all
[He enters the Tomb.
Who, in that cave of death, art full as perfect
And supplicate thy mercies to my father.
Enter Phocion, from the Tomb.
Eup. Ha! those sounds !
Phoc. Heart-swelling transport!
Eup. Support me ;-reach thy hand,
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
Lup. My father lives sepulchred ere his time,
Eup. Not found him there?
[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.