Arcas. The grey of morn breaks thro' yon eastern clouds.

'Twere time this interview should end: the hour

Now warns Euphrasia hence: what man could dare,

I have indulg'd—Philotas!—ha! the cell

Left void!—Evander gone!—What may this mean?

Philotas, speak.

Enter Philotas.

Philotas

Phil. Oh! vile, detested lot,

Here to obey the savage tyrant's will,

And murder virtue that can thus behold

Its executioner, and smile upon him.

That piteous sight!

Arcas. She must withdraw, Philotas;

Delay undoes us both. The restless main

Glows with the blush of day.

The time requires

Without or further pause, or vain excuse,

That she depart this moment.

Phil. Arcas, yes;[Pg 25]

 Prev. P 36/101 next