ASPASIA. 
Soon may we meet again, secure and free,
To feel no more the pangs of separation! [Exit.

DEMETRIUS, CALI.

DEMETRIUS. 
This night alone is ours—­Our mighty foe,
No longer lost in am’rous solitude,
Will now remount the slighted seat of empire,
And show Irene to the shouting people: 
Aspasia left her, sighing in his arms,
And list’ning to the pleasing tale of pow’r;
With soften’d voice she dropp’d the faint refusal,
Smiling consent she sat, and blushing love.

CALI. 
Now, tyrant, with satiety of beauty
Now feast thine eyes; thine eyes, that ne’er hereafter
Shall dart their am’rous glances at the fair,
Or glare on Cali with malignant beams.

SCENE III.

DEMETRIUS, CALI, LEONTIUS, ABDALLA.

LEONTIUS. 
Our bark, unseen, has reach’d th’ appointed bay,
And, where yon trees wave o’er the foaming surge,
Reclines against the shore:  our Grecian troop
Extends its lines along the sandy beach,
Elate with hope, and panting for a foe.

ABDALLA. 
The fav’ring winds assist the great design,
Sport in our sails, and murmur o’er the deep.

CALI. 
’Tis well—­A single blow completes our wishes;
Return with speed, Leontius, to your charge;
The Greeks, disorder’d by their leader’s absence,
May droop dismay’d, or kindle into madness.

LEONTIUS. 
Suspected still!—­What villain’s pois’nous tongue
Dares join Leontius’ name with fear or falsehood? 
Have I for this preserv’d my guiltless bosom,
Pure as the thoughts of infant innocence? 
Have I for this defy’d the chiefs of Turkey,
Intrepid in the flaming front of war?

CALI. 
Hast thou not search’d my soul’s profoundest thoughts? 
Is not the fate of Greece and Cali thine?

LEONTIUS. 
Why has thy choice then pointed out Leontius,
Unfit to share this night’s illustrious toils? 
To wait, remote from action, and from honour,
An idle list’ner to the distant cries
Of slaughter’d infidels, and clash of swords? 
Tell me the cause, that while thy name, Demetrius,
Shall soar, triumphant on the wings of glory,
Despis’d and curs’d, Leontius must descend
Through hissing ages, a proverbial coward,
The tale of women, and the scorn of fools?

DEMETRIUS. 
Can brave Leontius be the slave of glory? 
Glory, the casual gift of thoughtless crowds! 
Glory, the bribe of avaricious virtue! 
Be but my country free, be thine the praise;
I ask no witness, but attesting conscience,
No records, but the records of the sky.

LEONTIUS. 
Wilt thou then head the troop upon the shore,
While I destroy th’ oppressor of mankind?

DEMETRIUS. 
What canst thou boast superiour to Demetrius? 
Ask, to whose sword the Greeks will trust their cause,
My name shall echo through the shouting field: 
Demand, whose force yon Turkish heroes dread,
The shudd’ring camp shall murmur out Demetrius.