[Exit Dionysius.

[

Dionysius

Eup. What do I hear? Melanthon, can it be?

If Carthage comes, if her perfidious sons

List in his cause, the dawn of freedom's gone.

Mel. Woe, bitt'rest woe, impends; thou wouldst not think——

Eup. How? speak! unfold.

Mel. My tongue denies its office.

Eup. How is my father? Say, Melanthon——

Mel. He,

I fear to shock thee with the tale of horror!

Perhaps he dies this moment.—Since Timoleon

First form'd his lines round this beleagur'd city,

No nutriment has touch'd Evander's lips.

In the deep caverns of the rock imprison'd

He pines in bitterest want.

Eup. Well, my heart,

Well do your vital drops forget to flow.

Mel. Despair, alas! is all the sad resource

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