ards,
Their preparations for approaching night;--
Didst thou then mark the motions of the Greek?

_Cal._ From the watch-tower I saw them: all things spoke
A foe secure, and discipline relax'd.

_Dio._ Their folly gives them to my sword. Are all
My orders issued?

_Cal._ All.

_Dio._ The troops retir'd
To gain recruited vigour from repose?

_Cal._ The city round lies hush'd in sleep.

_Dio._ Anon
Let each brave officer, of chosen valour,
Forsake his couch, and with delib'rate spirit,
Meet at the citadel. An hour, at furthest,
Before the dawn; 'tis fix'd to storm their camp;
Haste, Calippus,
Fly to thy post, and bid Euphrasia enter.

[_Exit CALIPPUS._

Evander dies this night:--Euphrasia too
Shall be dispos'd of. Curse on Phocion's fraud,
That from my pow'r withdrew their infant boy.
In him the seed of future kings were crush'd,
And the whole hated line at once extinguish'd.

_Enter EUPHRASIA._

Once more approach and hear me; 'tis not now
A time to waste in the vain war of words.
A crisis big with horror is at hand.
I meant to spare the stream of blood, that soon
Shall deluge yonder plains. My fair proposals
Thy haughty spirit has with scorn rejected.
And now, by Heav'n, here, in thy very sight,
Evander breathes his last.

_Eup._ If yet there's wanting
A crime to fill the measure of thy guilt,
Add that black murder to the dreadful list;--
With that complete the horrors of thy reign.

_Dio._ Woman, beware: Philotas is at hand,
And to our presence leads Evander. All
Thy dark complottings, and thy treach'rous arts,
Have prov'd abortive.

_Eup._ Ha!--What new event?
And is Philotas false?--Has he betray'd him?

[_Aside._

_Dio._ What, ho! Philotas!

_Enter PHILOTAS._

_Eup._ How my heart sinks within me!

_Dio._ Where's your pris'ner?

_Phil._ Evander is no more.

_Dio._ Ha!--Death has robb'd me
Of half my great revenge.

_Phil._ Worn out with anguish,
I saw life ebb apace. With studied art
We gave each cordial drop, alas, in vain;
He heav'd a sigh, invok'd his daughter's name,
Smil'd, and expir'd.

_Dio._ Bring me his hoary head!

_Phil._ You'll pardon, sir, my over-hasty zeal.
I gave the body to the foaming surge,
Down the steep rock despis'd.

_Dio._ Now rave and shriek,
And rend your scatter'd hair. No more Evander
Shall sway Sicilia's sceptre.
Now then, thou feel'st my vengeance.

_Eup._ Glory in it;
Exult and triumph. Thy worst shaft is sped.
Yet still th'unconquer'