Eup. Ha! those sounds!—
Speak of Evander; tell me that he lives,
Or lost Euphrasia dies.
Phoc. Heart-swelling transport!
Art thou Euphrasia? 'tis thy Phocion, love;
Thy husband comes.
Eup. Support me;—reach thy hand.
Phoc. Once more I clasp her in this fond embrace!
Eup. What miracle has brought thee to me?
Phoc. Love
Inspir'd my heart, and guided all my ways.
Eup. Oh, thou dear wanderer! But wherefore here?
Why in this place of woe? My tender little one,—
Say, is he safe? Oh! satisfy a mother;
Speak of my child, or I go wild at once!
Tell me his fate, and tell me all thy own.
Phoc. Your boy is safe, Euphrasia; lives to reign
In Sicily: Timoleon's gen'rous care
Protects him in his camp:—dispel thy fears;
The gods once more will give him to thy arms.
Eup. My father lives sepulchred ere his time,
Here in Eudocia's tomb; let me conduct thee.
Phoc. I came this moment thence.