University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE FIRST.

Demariste, Echilus.
Ech.
Oh mother of Timophanes, 'tis time
That thou should'st feel regret for such a son:
At last he has assumed without disguise
The character of tyrant.

Dem.
What has happened?
Where is he? Can I not retrace his steps?

Ech.
What? Know'st thou not? ...

Dem.
I know not; speak.

Ech.
Alas!
By means of his corrupted satellites,
He takes the life ...

Dem.
Of whom?

Ech.
In his own blood
Weltering lies Archidas; the violence
Is most notorious; in the public street
Wounded he dies; nor from the mangled corse
The impious murderers fly; ferociously
The gasping, half-dead body they surround,
And intercept all aid. Each passenger
Affrighted flies, and scarcely dares to weep
Inaudibly. He dies, that noble, just,
Humane, and only citizen, who brought,
To the degraded magistracy, fame.
Timoleon sees himself in him bereft
Of the unenvying rival of his virtue,
His bosom friend, the only ...

Dem.
Ah! what tidings
Dost thou relate? Oh heaven! now more than ever,
Will peace betwixt my sons be interrupted;
Perhaps 'tis for ever broken. Wretched me! ...
What shall I do?

Ech.
Go where thou hast a right,
And of a mother's power avail thyself.
What reparation of a crime so great
There now remains for him, I scarce can tell,
That may suffice at once to mitigate
The anger of his brother, and of Corinth:
If he will make concessions, and renounce
His guilty power, there may be hope e'en yet.
Timoleon is his brother; I, by blood,
And friendship, am too much united to him:
We thence shall have unmerited aspersions;
Yet perhaps still save him ... but if he have now
Entirely hardened his perverted heart
By his new arbitrary sway of blood,
Tremble for him thyself.

Dem.
What do I hear?

Ech.
I, erewhile blinded to his dawning vices,
Have been the dupe of his atrocious arts.
Though late, I see that now the hour is come,
When with him, my affection, conduct, language,
All, all must change.

Dem.
Ah! hear him first, I pray thee ...
Who knows? perchance ... I cannot blame thy anger ...
Nor dare I to defend a deed so guilty; ...
Yet some pretence, at least, of reason, must,
To this, have driven him. Hitherto his sword
Fell only on the guiltiest citizens:
Tremendous, I allow; but to those only
Tremendous, who, though impious, and blamed,
Unpunished stood, refractory to law,
Above all law, which, towards them, was mute:
Such hitherto was he.

Ech.
If thou dost hear him,
I fear that he will give thee arguments
More guilty than his deeds.

Dem.
See; he comes hither.