Cleo. Here’s to thee, dear Clemanthis—
Lys. Help, Treason, help—
Ther. Ah, lovely Youth, who taught thee so much cruelty? And why that Language with that angry Blow?
Cleo. Behold this Face, and then inform thy self.
[Discovers her self.
Ther. ‘Tis Cleomena! oh ye Gods, I thank ye!
It is her Hand that wounds me,
And I’ll receive my Death with perfect Joy,
If I may be permitted but to kiss
That blessed Hand that sent it.
Enter King and Guards.
King. Thersander murder’d! oh, inhumane Deed! Drag the Traitor to a Dungeon, till we have Invented unheard of Tortures to destroy him by— [The Guards seize Cleo. and Sem. who was just entring. My Wounds are deep as thine, my dear Thersander; Oh, fatal Day, wherein one fatal Stroke. Has laid the Hopes of Scythia in his Tomb!
The Guards go to carry Cleo. and Sem.
Ther. calls ‘em back.
Ther. Oh, stay, and do not bear so rudely off
Treasures you cannot value.
—Sir,—do not treat her as my Murderer,
But as my Sovereign Deity—
Instead of Fetters, give her Crowns and Scepters;
And let her be conducted into Dacia,
With all the Triumphs of a Conqueror.
For me, no other Glory I desire,
Than at her Feet thus willingly to expire.
[Goes to throw himself at her Feet, they prevent it and go off.