He stirs,
And stretches now, and seems to essay his limbs.
Cleom. Where am I? [Standing a while; they support him.
Clean. In his arms, who died with you,
And, now you live, revives.
Cleom. Art thou Pantheus?
Panth. Believe your eyes, I am.
Cleom. Speak then, and truly, (for I trust not him,)
Who brought me back to life?
Panth. Who, but he, who was left single with you,