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ACTIT

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Enter EVANDER and MELANTHON.
Eva. Lead me, Melanthon; guide my aged steps;
Where is he? let me see him.

Phoc. My Euphrasia;
*Thy father lives; thou venerable man!
Behold !-I cannot fly to thy embrace.

Eup. These agonies must end me-ah, my father!
Again I have him, gracious pow'rs! again
I clasp his hand, and bathe it with my tears.
Eva. Euphrasia - Phocion, too!-Yes, both are

here!
Oh, let me thus, thus strain you to my heart.

Phoc. Protected by a daughter's tender care,
By my Euphrasia sav'd! That sweet reflection
Exalts the bliss to rapture.

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Eup. Why, my father,
Why thus adventure forth? The strong alarm
O’erwhelm'd my spirits.

Eva. I went forth, my child,
When all was dark, and awful silence round,
To throw me prostrate at the altar's foot,
And crave the care of Heav'n for thee and thine.
Melanthon there-

refore

ne,

Enter PHILOTAS.
Phil. Inevitable ruin hovers o'er you:
The tyrant's fury mounts into a blaze;
Unsated yet with blood, he calls aloud
For thee, Evander! thee his rage hath order'd
This moment to his presence.

Eva. Lead me to him :
His presence hạth no terror for Evander.

Eup. Horror! It must not be.

Phil. No, never, never :
I'll perish rather! But the time demands
Our utmost vigour. His policy has granted

A day's suspense from arms; yet even now
His troops prepare, in the dead midnight hour,
With base surprise, to storm Timoleon's camp.

Eva. And doth he grant a false insidious truce, To turn the hour of peace to blood and horror ? Eup. I know the monster well: when specious

seeming
Becalms his looks, the rankling heart within
Teems with destruction.
Mel. Now, Phocion, now, on thee our hope de-

pends.
Fly to Timoleon; I can grant a passport:
Rouse him to vengeance; on the tyrant turn
His own insidious arts, or all is lost.

Phoc. Evander thou, and thou, my best Euphrasia, Both shall attend my flight.

Mel. It were in vain ;
Th' attempt would hazard all.

Eup. Together here
We will remain, safe in the cave of death;
And wait our freedom from thy conqu’ring arm.
Eva. Oh, would the gods roll back the stream of

time, And give this arm the sinew that it boasted At Tauromenium, when its force resistless Mow'd down the ranks of war! I then might guide The battle's rage, and, ere Evander die, Add still another laurel to my brow.

Eup. Enough of laurell'd victory your sword Hath reap'd in earlier days.

Eva. And shall my sword, When the great cause of liberty invites, Remain inactive, unperforming quite ? Youth, second youth, rekindles in my veins : Tho' worn with age, this arm will know its office ; Will show, that victory has not forgot Acquaintance with his hand. And yet-O shame!

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It will not be: the momentary blaze
Sinks, and expires : I have surviv'd it all ;
Surviv'd my reign, my people, and myself.
Eup. Fly, Phocion, fly; Melanthon will conduct

thee.
Mel. And when th' assault begins, my faithful co-

horts
Shall form their ranks around this sacred dome.
Phoc. And my poor captive friends, my brave com-

panions
Taken in battle, wilt thou guard their lives?
Mel. Trust to my care:

no danger shall assail
them.
Pho. By Heav'n, the glorious expectation swells
This panting bosom! Yes, Euphrasia, yes;
Awhile I leave you to the care of Heav'n.
Fell Dionysius tremble; ere the dawn
Timoleon' thunders at your gates! the rage,
The pent-up rage, of twenty thousand Greeks,
Shall burst at once; and the tumultuous roar
Alarm th' astonish'd world.

Eva. Yet, ere thou go'st, young man,
Attend my words: Tho' guilt may oft provoke,
As now it does, just vengeance on its head,
In mercy punish it. The rage of slaughter
Can add no trophy to the victor's triumph;
Bid him not shed unnecessary blood.
Conquest is proud, inexorable, fierce;
It is humanity ennobles all!
So thinks Evander, and so tell Timoleon.
Phoc. Farewell;—the midnight hour shall give you
freedom.

[Erit, with Melantion and PHILOTAS. Eup. Ye guardian deities, watch all his ways.

Eva. Come, my Euphrasia, in this interval
Together we will seek the sacred altar,
And thank the God, whose presence fills the doom,
For all the wond'rous goodness lavish'd on us.

(Ereunt.

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ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

Enter DIONYSIUS and CALIPPUS.
Dio. Ere the day clos'd, while yet the busy eye
Might view their camp, their stations, and their

guards,
Their preparations for approaching night;
Didst thou then mark the motions of the Greeks ?
Cal. From the watch-tower I saw them : all things

spoke
A foe secure, and discipline relax'd.

Dio. Their folly gives them to my sword. Are all My orders issued ?

Cal. All.

Dio. The troops retir'd
To gain recruited vigour from repose ?

Cal. The city round lies hush'd in sleep.

Dio. Anon
Let each brave officer, of chosen valour,
Forsake his couch, and with delib’rate spirit.
Meet at the citadel. An hour, at furthest,
Before the dawn, 'tis fix'd to storm their camp.
Haste, Calippus,
Fly to thy post, and bid Euphrasia enter.

[Exit CALIPPUS.

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Evander dies this night :-Euphrasia too
Shall be dispos’d of. Curse on Phocion's fraud,
That from my power withdrew their infant boy.
In him the seed of future kings were crush’d,
And the whole hated line at once extinguish'd.

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Enter EUPHRASIA.

Tere

Once more approach and hear me; 'tis not now
A time to waste in the vain war of words,
A crisis big with horror is at hand.
I meant to spare the stream of blood, that soon
Shall deluge yonder plains. My fair proposals
Thy haughty spirit hath with scorn rejected.
And now, by Heav'n, here, in thy very sight,
Evander breathes his last.

Eup. If yet there's wanting
A crime to fill the measure of thy guilt,
Add that black murder to the dreadful list ;–
With that complete the horrors of thy reign.

Dio. Woman, beware : Philotas is at hand,
And to our presence leads Evander. All
Thy dark complottings, and thy treach'rous arts,
Have proved abortive.

Eup. Ha!-What new event?
And is Philotas-false?-Has he betray'd him?

[Aside. Dio. What, ho! Philotas!

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Enter PHILOTAS.

Eup. How

my

heart sinks within me!
Dio. Where's your pris'ner ?
Phil. Evander is no more.

Dio. Ha! Death has robb’d me
Of half my great revenge.

Phil. Worn out with anguish,
I saw life ebb apace. With studied art
We

gave each cordial drop, alas, in vain; He heav'd a sigh, invok'd his daughter's name, Smild and expir'd.

Dio. Bring me his hoary head!
Phil. You'll pardon, sir, my over-hasty zeal.

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