Thus wilt thou spurn me, when a king distress'd,

A good, a virtuous, venerable king,

The father of his people, from a throne

Which long with ev'ry virtue he adorn'd,

Torn by a ruffian, by a tyrant's hand,

Groans in captivity? In his own palace

Lives a sequester'd prisoner? Oh! Philotas,

If thou hast not renounc'd humanity;

Let me behold my sovereign; once again

Admit me to his presence; let me see

My royal master.

Phil. Urge thy suit no further;[Pg 8]

[Pg 8]

Thy words are fruitless; Dionysius' orders

Forbid access; he is our sov'reign now;

'Tis his to give the law, mine to obey.

Mel. Thou canst not mean it: his to give the law!

Detested spoiler!—his! a vile usurper!

Have we forgot the elder Dionysius,

Surnam'd the Tyrant? To Sicilia's throne

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