_Amin_. Thou wilt undo me with this Tenderness. Come send me kindly from thee, With Joys about my Heart that may preserve it; Here rest till my Return; farewel, my Fair. _Ura_. And if I never see thee more, farewel-- [Amin. _exit_. Here I will lay me down, and never rise, Till thou return’st with Laurel, or with Cypress. [_Sits down_. Now I cou’d curse the Fortune of my Prince, Who quits a Father for an Enemy, To satisfy a Flame will ruin him. [_A noise of Fighting_. --The Fight increases; Oh ye Gods of Battel, In midst of all your Rage preserve my Love. _Enter_ Artabazes _over the Stage, and goes out_. _Art_. My Nephew kill’d! and I dismounted too! oh curst Fate! _Ura_. This Noise has comfort in’t, it sounds like Victory. [_A hollowing within amongst the noise of Fighting. Enter_ Amintas. --Oh Gods! _Amintas_! what has Fortune done? _Amin_. The undaunted _Scythians_ never lost the Field; Yet now at first ‘twas doubtful To which side Fortune would incline her self _Ismenes_ kill’d where’er he turn’d his Sword, And quite defeated our _Agrippian_ Forces; Yet was not satisfy’d, knowing the King To be the Price of _Cleomena’s_ Heart, But sought him out on all sides, Whom ‘twas not hard to find; For he was hurrying now from Rank to Rank, Distributing a Death to all Opposers. But young _Ismenes_ having pierc’d the Squadrons, And knowing our great King by several Marks, Boldly cry’d out,--Defend the Life I claim. The King made no Reply, but at that Word Prepar’d himself to fight. _Ura_. Thou kill’st me, till thou bring’st him off again. _Amin_. Disorder’d thus--the _Dacian_ took Advantage, And charg’d with so much Vigour--we gave Ground; When on that side the single Combat was, There appear’d a Body of two thousand Horse, Led by a Man, whose Looks brought Victory, And made the conquering Foe retire again: But when he did perceive the King engag’d, With unresisted Fury he made up, And rushing in between them, Gave the young Prince a blow upon his Head, That struck him from his Horse. After this Victory _Thersander’s_ Name Did fly from Mouth to Mouth, Inspiring every _Scythian_ with new Valour: He kill’d _Philemon_, and forc’d _Artabazes_ To seek his Safety by his Horse’s Flight; --But here’s the King--retire into this Wood. [Ura. _Ex_. _Enter_ King, Thersander, _Officers, and Soldiers_. _King_. Let me once more embrace my dear _Thersander_. _Amin_. The Prince is wounded, Sir. _King_. He is--but they look lovely on him. _Ther_. They’re too slight Marks to give you of my Duty; Your Majesty has greater need of Care. _King_. Thou art my best Physician, and thy sight Heals all the Wounds I have: come in with me, And let me lay thee to my panting Bosom, Thou great Preserver of my Crown and Life.