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Was pointed. If he fell not on the spot,
fate. Command my troops, that in the Forum watch, To join Rhinalces. I myself will follow..
Euan. Why hast thou call’d me hither, to afflict And torture me with spectacles of woe ?
[The Gate of the Prison opens, and
AMPHARES' Slave advances. Eternal powers ! why yawn yon dreadful gates ? And from what horrid deed stalks yonder villain ? Mess. Thy orders are obey'd. He lives no more. Euan. Barbarian monster ! hast thou kill'd Ly
Where murder and Amphares cannot come
[She runs towards the Dungeon. AM
PHARES seizes her.
thy sword, And try if death can terrify despair.
Amph. Drag her along. . [Shout. Again !-the foe draws near.
[Shout from the other side, “ Agis and
[Runs at EUANTHE with his sword.
Enter LYSANDER, followed by RHESUS.. Lysan. Infernal dog, turn and behold Lysander! Fly, Rhesus, to the king. Traitor accurst!
; [Exit RHESUS. Down, down, to Tartarus ; there, villain, howl.
[AMPHARES falls. Euan. Amazing powers ! alive! victorious ! oh!
Lysan. And have I come to save thee, O Euanthe! But oh! I fear I come too late for Agis, The dungeon-mouth is open.
Tell me, Rhesus.
Rhe. The king is murder'd, in yon vault he lies. Lysan. My prince ! my friend ! thy goodness,
and thy virtue, . . Thy clemency, thy mildness, have undone thee ! Fatal to nations is the dread example ! Hence monarchs, who with iron sceptre rule, Will justify their treatment of mankind; And virtuous princes, born in evil times, Will hesitate to stem corruption's tide, Lest they should be like Agis overwhelm’d. :
Amph. He who preferr'd Lysander to Amphares,
Has paid me with his life. My dying hand
[Dies. Lysan. Thy soul is curst. There the fell spirit of Amphares fled In imprecations. Prophet of disasters, Upon the dismal banks of Acheron, Amidst the wailing ghosts, still curse thy country, And end a speech the damn’d will hate to hear. Behold the mother of our murder'd king.
Enter AGESTSTRATA and Euxus. Ages. Alas! I need not ask the fate of Agis : Your looks, your silence say, I have no son ! Yet speak to me, for I can hear the worst, I have been long familiar with affliction; I am the widow of the sire of Agis. Lysan. There lies the bloody author of his
death, Slain by my hand.
Ages. Alas, alas ! my son! .. Oft has my anxious mind this hour foreseen, And warn’d thee oft. But thou the danger scorn'd,
When Sparta's glory was the price of peril.
Lysan. So fell not false Amphares.
Euxus. And dreadful was her death.
wore. Arriving then, I heard her shriek for help, Implore her country's gods with bitter cries, And, in her agony, divulge her crimes. It was no wonder that she fear'd to die. Ages. O guilt! thou’rt worst of all; he knew
thee not For whom I mourn. Untimely was his fate;