Evanthe.
Oh! ever blest event!—All-gracious heav'n!
This beam of joy revives me.
Scene III.
Vardanes, Evanthe, Lysias, to them, an Officer.
Officer.
Haste! my Lord!
Or all will soon be lost; tho' thrice repuls'd
By your e'erfaithful guards, they still return
With double fury.
Vardanes.
Hence, then, idle love—
Come forth, my trusty sword—curs'd misfortune!—
Had I but one short hour, without reluctance,
I'd meet them, tho' they brib'd the pow'rs of hell,
To place their furies in the van: Yea, rush
To meet this dreadful Brother 'midst the war—
Haste to the combat—Now a crown or death—
The wretch who dares to give an inch of ground
Till I retire, shall meet the death he shun'd.
Away—away! delays are dang'rous now—
Scene IV.
Evanthe [alone].