A silent tear steals down; the tear of virtue,

That sweetens grief to rapture. All her laws

Inverted quite, great nature triumphs still.

Arcas. The tale unmans my soul.

Phil. Ye tyrants, hear it,

And learn, that, while your cruelty prepares

Unheard-of torture, virtue can keep pace

With your worst efforts, and can try new modes

To bid men grow enamour'd of her charms.

Arcas. Philotas, for Euphrasia, in her cause,

I now can hazard all. Let us preserve

Her father for her.

Phil. Oh! her lovely daring

Transcends all praise. By Heav'n, he shall not die.

Arcas. And yet we must be wary; I'll go forth,

And first explore each avenue around,

Lest the fix'd sentinel obstruct your purpose.

[Exit Arcas.

[

Arcas

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