Of great exploits by ardent valour done: But ne'er did fancy's tempest match the truth, O did I combat but for life alone, Were Sparta and Euanthe safe spectators, Enter Euxus. Euxus. My fears are vain. The secret is unknown. But Rhesus is condemn'd to die to-morrow. Lysan. To-morrow! many men will die to-mor row, Who are not yet condemn'd. Euxus. 'Tis true, by heav'n! Mortal designs and enterprizes rise On every side. The Ephori resolve At midnight to surprise the royal band, Lysan. 'Tis well! 'tis wondrous well I'll rush, and strike before their blow can fall. Euxus. Shall join you at the gate. The word? Lysan. Agis. Farewell!-Now I shall save thee, Agis, Or leave my blood upon the stones of Sparta. [Exeunt LYSANDER and EUXUS. ACT V. AMPHARES and the Ephori with the Officers, &c. The gate of the prison seen at a distance. 1. Epho. The hour is past. 2. Epho. I fear— Amph. Silence. He comes. I hear the steps of wary treading feet. Enter a Spartan. AGIS following. Agis. This way conducts not to Amycla's gate. Ah! whither dost thou lead me? Amph. To thy death. The Ephori of Sparta have condemn'd thee. Agis. I am betray'd! What mockery is this Of sacred justice? Lay aside the robes And ensigns of authority prophaned: pomp of magistracy suits not treason. The Amph. The licence of thy tongue affronts the laws, Where awful rev'rence our high office bears. Agis. Know ye not this, ye guardians of the laws, The meanest citizen of Lacedæmon Without free trial cannot be condemn'd; Much less your king. What law have I trans gress'd? Point out my crime; produce my bold accusers. Amph. Thy crime is tyranny. Agis. Is that my crime? Had Agis been a tyrant, thou had'st been His fawning slave, thou enemy of freedom! Agis. Who made you judges of the life of Agis? But you have judged yourselves, and earth, and heav'n, Know how unjustly. To the gods above, And Nemesis directs his righteous sword. " Amph. Proceeds this boldness from thy trust in him? Thy great avenger is, like thee, a captive, And under the same mortal sentence lies. Amyh. In the streets of Sparta, Clad in the servile garment of a Helot. Agis. Alas! alas! Lysander! O my friend! And, like the parent bird hov'ring too near |