_Cal._ [_Holding DIONYSIUS'S Arm._] My liege, forbear; Her life preserv'd may plead your cause with Greece, And mitigate your fate.
_Dio._ Presumptuous slave! My rage is up in arms;--by Heav'n, she dies.
_Eva._ Horror! forbear!--Thou murd'rer, hold thy hand! The gods behold thee, horrible assassin! Restrain the blow; it were a stab to Heav'n; All nature shudders at it!--Will no friend Arm in a cause like this a father's hand? Strike at this bosom rather. Lo! Evander Prostrate and groveling on the earth before thee! He begs to die:--exhaust the scanty drops That lag about his heart;--but spare my child.
_Dio._ Evander!----Do my eyes once more behold him?-- May the fiends seize Philotas! Treach'rous slave! 'Tis well thou liv'st; thy death were poor revenge From any hand but mine. [_Offers to strike._
_Eup._ No, tyrant no; [_Rushing before EVANDER._ I have provok'd your vengeance; through this bosom Open a passage; first on me, on me Exhaust your fury. Ev'ry pow'r above Commands thee to respect that aged head: His wither'd frame wants blood to glut thy rage: Strike here; these veins are full; here's blood enough; The purple tide will gush to glad thy sight.
_Dio._ Amazement blasts and freezes ev'ry pow'r! Ha! the fierce tide of war [_A flourish of Trumpets._ This way comes rushing on.
_Eup._ [_Embracing EVANDER._] Oh! thus, my father, We'll perish thus together.
_Dio._ Bar the gates; Close ev'ry passage, and repel their force.
_Eva._ And must I see thee bleed? Oh, for a sword! Bring, bring me daggers!
_Dio._ Guards, seize the slave, And give him to my rage.
_Eva._ [_Seized by the GUARDS._] Oh! Inhuman villains!
_Dio._ Let me despatch; thou traitor, thus my arm--
_Eup._ A daughter's arm, fell monster, strikes the blow. [_Stabs DIONYSIUS._ Yes, first she strikes; an injur'd daughter's arm Sends thee devoted to th' infernal gods. [_He falls._
_Dio._ May curses blast thy arm! May Ætna's fires Convulse the land; to its foundation shake The groaning isle! May civil discord bear Her flaming brand through all the realms of Greece; And the whole race expire in pangs like mine! [_Dies._
_Eup._ Behold, all Sicily behold!--The point Glows with the tyrant's blood. Ye slaves, [_To the GUARDS._] look there; Kneel to your rightful king: the blow for freedom Gives you the rights of men! And, oh, my father, My ever honour'd sire, it gives thee life!
