_Hon_. You know the last Defeat the _Scythians_ gave us, Th’ impatient People broke the Castle-gates, And against all your Powers were ready to have crown’d him; And shou’d we now be conquer’d, nothing less Will still the mutinous Army: try him, Madam, He may be fit for great Impressions, Had he but good Examples to dispose him. _Qu_. I’ll have it done to night. Heaven, if it be thy Will, inspire my Son With Virtue fit to wear his Father’s Crown. [_Exeunt_. _Scene draws off, discovers_ Thersander _seemingly courting_ Olympia. _Enter_ Cleomena; _sees them, starts, gazes on them, then goes out unseen. The Scene closes and changes to her Apartment.--She enters in a Rage_-- _Cleo_. Perfidious Man! am I abandon’d then? [_Rage_. Abandon’d for _Olympia_! my Slave-- And yet I lov’d him more than I did Heaven-- [_Soft_. And shall he quit me thus? Without being punish’d for this Infidelity? --No, let me be a shame to all my Sex then --Oh, _Clemanthis_! to whom I fondly gave my Liberty, When first I saw thee sleeping in the Wood. --But I grow soft, a Passion too unfit For so much Anger as my Soul’s possess’d with; ’.was but even now he lov’d me with such Ardor, And he who promis’d me the Crown of _Scythia_, Dar’st thou become unjust, ungrateful Stranger! Who having rais’d thy Eyes to _Cleomena_, Would sacrifice her to another Mistress? --This Heart, which ought not to’ve been given away, But by the Services and Blood of Kings, How hast thou lost it on a false Unknown, Without being paid for it one single Sigh!-- _Enter_ Thersander; _she draws a Dagger; offers to kill him, but cannot_. Traitor--hast thou the impudence to appear before me, Or dost thou come to meet thy just Reward? [_Offers to stab him_. --There’s something in his Looks that does preserve him, Or I’m not truly brave, and dare not kill him. --Go, treacherous Unknown, whom I’ve preferr’d Before so many Princes, who in vain Sue for this credulous Heart which thou’st betray’d. _Ther_. Ah! Madam, can you be thus cruel to me, And not inform me how I have offended? _Cleo_. Be gone, I say, if thou would’st save a Life, Which those that dare do evil fear to lose. _Ther_. Those Eyes thus order’d are far worse than Death. End what you have so well begun, And kill me; Yet from another’s Hand The Blow would he less cruel. _Cleo_. Oh, Impudence! Still he wou’d cheat my Rage, as he has abus’d my Love; But, Monster, though thou art below my Hand, I’m yet a Princess, and I can command. By Heaven, I’ll try how much Rage can invent. _Semiris_, call _Qlympia_ to me strait; She shall in Triumph with me stand and smile, To see thee by some Vassal bleed. _Ther_. There needs no other witness of my Death. But her I have offended; To you alone I offer up my Life: for dying, I’ve something to relate may justify your Rage, Though not deserve your Pity.