 | Timoleon |  |
SCENE I.
SCENE continues.Enter Timoleon.
My Mother's Fate depends on this; she tells me,
That on the Verge of Life she trembling stands,
Ready to plunge into Eternity.
But then my Country! she's a Parent too,
And can I see Destruction preying on her?
See Lust and Rapine wanton in her Ruin?
See it unmov'd!—No, be thy self, my Soul.
Let not the Voice of Nature charm thy Virtue,
But stand up boldly to the Front of Pow'r,
And strike Oppression dead; Corinth demands it.
Enter Orthagoras.
Ort.
Timoleon, rise to save us and thy Country.
Fate is at work, the Tyrant's Friends are busy,
Whispering they meet, and threaten with their Smiles.
They smile but to destroy.
Timol.
We will prevent them.
Timophanes remov'd, we crush the Faction;
The Head once lopt, the Limbs will cease to move.
Enter Æschylus.
Æsc.
Timoleon, rise; assert our Liberty,
That Liberty, which with such ardent Zeal
Our Patriots have maintain'd; for this they fought,
For this they bled, and this we poorly lose;
Gasping it lies, and sues to thee for Life.
Timol.
Sues it to me! I'll save it, tho' I perish.
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My Soul akes for this Brother—he must fall.
Æsc.
Each Moment Fortune shoots her poison'd Shafts,
Points them at thee.—Must I encrease thy Sorrows?
Timol.
What is it? Speak, if it affects my Country,
So much I'm hers, her Sorrows all are mine:
If me alone, why speak, and I will bear it
As a Corinthian, who should only mourn
For Corinth's Miseries, for Corinth's Ruin.
Æsc.
Eunesia!
Timol.
What of her? Speak on, I beg thee,
My Spirits flutter at that dear lov'd Name,
Ready to take their Flight, if she's in Pain.
Æsc.
While soothing with her Smiles her aged Father,
The pious Fair was torn away—
Timol.
By whom?
Æsc.
Lycander.
Timol.
Ha! Lycander! righteous Gods!
But whither? know'st thou?
Æsch.
To the Tyrant's Palace.
Timol.
I'll fly to rescue her. In the mean Time,
Haste hence, my Æschylus, rouze up our Friends,
And animate their Souls with Hopes of Freedom.
Bid them be ready to assert their Laws,
Their Liberty.—Then meet us at the Temple.
Where you, Orthagoras, go, first prepare
A private Sacrifice to Jove supreme.
Let us by Offerings and by Prayers obtain
His Smiles on our Attempt.—'Tis an Attempt
For Life, or Death, for Chains, or Liberty.
| Timoleon | |