Ther. Be gone, I’ll read the Letter o’er again, [Exeunt Attendants. And here impress thy Cruelty, and see what that will do To set me free. Ther. reads the Letter— Finding it impossible to obey your unkind Commands, I am fled, and do resolve never to marry that Barbarian, whose Crimes are only known to me; no, nor any other that cannot bring me his Head; whereto sollicite Artabazes, and Ismenes, if they will obey_. Cleomena.

If I consult my Reason and my Courage, They say I should not love this cruel Maid. But oh, my Reason, you’re weak to counsel; I’ll think of nothing else but dying for her, Since ‘tis my Life she asks, and here demands it. But ‘tis in vain to arm my happy Rivals, For I my self can more devoutly serve you. ’.is I will pierce this unaccepted Heart, Whose Flames are found so criminal—

Enter Lysander.

Lys. Sir, there’s without a Youth that desires admittance.

Ther. From whom comes he?

Lys. He would not tell me that, but has a Letter, Which he’ll deliver only to your Highness.

Ther. Bring him in, it may be from Amintas.

Enter Cleomena drest like a Country-Shepherd, comes bowing to him, gives him a Note.

Ther. reads to himself— Guard thee well, Thersander; for thou shalt die by the Hand that brings thee this.

[She stabs him; he falls into Lysander’s Arms.

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.