Chapter 30

_After a Noise of Trumpets at some distance and fighting, the Scene draws, and discovers_ Cleomena _and_ Thersander _fighting_: Lysander. _On one side stands the_ King of Scythia _with his Party: on the other, the_ Queen of Dacia, Hon. Artabazes, _and her Party_: Vallentio.

_Ther_. What mak’st thou to fight as if indeed thou wert _Clemanthis_? But since thou art not him thou represent’st, Whoe’er thou be’st, ‘twas indiscreetly done, To draw me from an order might have sav’d thee; --Whois’t that dares assume _Clemanthis’. shape? [_They fight_.

_Cleo_. Unworthy _Scythian_, whose reported Valour Unjustly was admir’d, cou’dst thou believe the covert of the Wood [Cleo. _falls, he stoops to look on her_. Cou’d hide thy Treason--Treason which thou durst own too? [_A cry of Joy on the_ Scythian’s _side_.

_Ther_. Ah! _Cleomena_, is it you? What have I done that could so far transport you? _Clemanthis’. Boldness has incur’d your Hate, But he has been severely punisht for’t; And here in lieu of that unhappy Stranger, Receive _Thersander_ with his equal Passions, But not his equal Crimes.

_Cleo_. Oh, Villain, since thou’st punish’d _Clemanthis_, Punish the unhappy _Cleomena_ too, And take her Life who came to have taken thine.

_Qu_. ‘Tis not _Clemanthis_, but my _Cleomena_-- With whom _Thersander_ fights--ah, cruel Child; [_They carry her off_.

_Ther_. Oh, whither, whither do you bear my Goddess? Return, and here resign your sacred Load, That whilst’t has Life it may behold the Sacrifice That I will make of this wild wretched Man That has so much offended--Disobey’d! --My Arms, my Arms, Lysander, mount me strait, And let me force the disobedient Troops; Those Coward-Slaves that could behold her bleed, And not revenge her on the Murderer: Quickly my Arms, kill, burn, and scatter all; Whilst ‘midst the Ruins of the World I fall.

[_The_ Scythian _Guards carry him off by force. Enter_ Ismenes _with his Sword. They all descend_.

_Ism_. Still thus defeated and outstript by Fate, Resolv’d betimes, but sallied out too late; Fortune and Love are equally unkind: --Who can resist those mighty Powers combin’d?

[_Exeunt_.