True, I betray'd Orodes, but with cause,

He struck me, like a sorry abject slave,

And still withheld from giving what he'd promis'd.

Fear not Arsaces, believe me, he shall

Soon his Quietus have—But, see, he comes,—

What can this mean? Why at this lonely hour,

And unattended?—Ha! 'tis opportune—

I'll in, and stab him now. I heed not what

The danger is, so I but have revenge,

Then heap perdition on me.

Vardanes.

Vardanes.

Hold, awhile—

'Twould be better could we undermine him,

And make him fall by Artabanus' doom.

Lysias.

Lysias.

Well, be it so—

Vardanes.

Vardanes.

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