Nature, that drives me on, will lend me force.

Is that my father?

Arcas. Take your last farewell.[Pg 22]

[Pg 22]

His vigour seems not yet exhausted quite.

You must be brief, or ruin will ensue.

[Exit.

[

Eva. [Raising himself.] Oh! when shall I get free?

—These ling'ring pangs—

Eup. Behold, ye pow'rs, that spectacle of woe!

Eva. Despatch me, pitying gods, and save my child!

I burn, I burn; alas! no place of rest:

[Rises and comes out.

[

A little air; once more a breath of air;

Alas! I faint; I die.

Eup. Heart-piercing sight!

Let me support you, sir.

Eva. Oh! lend your arm.

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