Damon is cast into prison and doomed to die. The curtain rises on him seated at a table, writing a last testament to be given to Pythias. The solitude, the stillness, the heavy hour, the retrospect of his life, the separation from all he loves, the nearness of death, combine to make his meditations profound and sad. The picture of man and fate which he then drew--so calm and grave and chaste, so relieved against the other scenes--was an exquisite masterpiece. He lays down his stylus. In an attitude of deep reflection--the left leg easily extended and the hand pendent by its side, the right leg drawn up even with the chair, his right elbow resting on the table, the hand supporting his slightly-bowed head, the opened eyes level and fixed, with a voice of manly and mournful music, every tone and accent faultless in its mellow and pellucid solemnity--he pronounces this soliloquy: "Existence! what is that? a name for nothing! It is a cloudy sky chased by the winds,-- Its fickle form no sooner chosen than changed! It is the whirling of the mountain-flood, Which, as we look upon it, keeps its shape, Though what composed that shape, and what composes, Hath passed--will pass--nay, and is passing on Even while we think to hold it in our eyes, And deem it there. Fie! fie! a feverish vision, A crude and crowded dream, unwilled, unbidden, By the weak wretch that dreams it." The effect was comparable to that of suddenly changing the scene from the clamorous multitude, bustle, and struggle of a noonday square to the midnight sky, with its eternal stars and moon shining on a lonely lake, whose serenity not a ripple or a rustling leaf disturbs. Pythias visits him in his dungeon. The interview is conducted in a manner so unaffected, so true to the finest feelings of the human heart, that few and hard indeed were the beholders who could remain unmoved. On the lamentation of Damon that he is denied the satisfaction of pressing his wife and child to his bosom before he dies, Pythias proposes to gain that privilege for him by being his hostage, if the tyrant will consent. He makes the request. "_Dionysius._ What wonder is this? Is he thy brother? _Damon._ Not in the fashion that the world puts on, But brother in the heart. _Dion._ Oh, by the wide world, Damocles, I did not think the heart of man was moulded To such a purpose." Six hours are granted Damon in which to reach his villa on the mountain-side, four leagues distant, take his farewell, and return, assured that if he is not at the place of execution at the moment appointed the axe falls on his substitute.