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!