Eva. Where,—
I fear to ask it, where is virtuous Phocion?
Eup. Fled from the tyrant's pow'r.
Eva. And left thee here
Expos'd and helpless?
Eup. He is all truth and honour:
He fled to save my child.
Eva. My young Evander!
Your boy is safe, Euphrasia?—Oh! my heart!
Alas! quite gone; worn out with misery;
Oh! weak, decay'd old man!
Eup. Inhuman wretches!
Will none relieve his want? A drop of water
Might save his life; and even that's deny'd him.
Eva. These strong emotions—Oh! that eager air—
It is too much—assist me; bear me hence;
And lay me down in peace.
Eup. His eyes are fix'd!
And those pale, quiv'ring lips! He clasps my hand:
What, no assistance! Monsters, will you thus
Let him expire in these weak, feeble arms?
Phil. Those wild, those piercing shrieks will give th'alarm.