Phoc. Evander thou, and thou, my best Euphrasia,
Both shall attend my flight.
Mel. It were in vain;
Th'attempt would hazard all.
Eup. Together here
We will remain, safe in the cave of death;
And wait our freedom from thy conqu'ring arm.
Eva. Oh, would the gods roll back the stream of time,
And give this arm the sinew that it boasted
At Tauromenium, when its force resistless
Mow'd down the ranks of war: I then might guide
The battle's rage, and, ere Evander die,
Add still another laurel to my brow.
Eup. Enough of laurell'd victory your sword
Hath reap'd in earlier days.
Eva. And shall my sword,
When the great cause of liberty invites,
Remain inactive, unperforming quite?
Youth, second youth, rekindles in my veins:
Tho' worn with age, this arm will know its office;
Will show, that victory has not forgot
Acquaintance with this hand.—And yet—O shame
It will not be: the momentary blaze
Sinks, and expires: I have survived it all;
Surviv'd my reign, my people, and myself.
Eup. Fly, Phocion, fly; Melanthon will conduct thee.
Mel. And, when th'assault begins, my faithful cohorts
Shall form their ranks around this sacred dome.
Phoc. And my poor captive friends, my brave companions
Taken in battle, wilt thou guard their lives?
Mel. Trust to my care: no danger shall assail them.