SCENE II.
ATHRIDATES, ARTAXIAS, ORCHANES.
ORCHANES.
From brave Domitius—
ATHRIDATES.
Has he too conquer'd? my impatient spirit
Prevents the step of time.
ORCHANES.
Great Athridates,
Be all thy days like this! Thy foes give way
On every side: Domitius has attack'd
Yon hostile camp; unequal to the conflict,
Their vanquish'd siles retire.
ATHRIDATES.
For this shall bleed
The snowy herd on dread Bellona's altar,
In grateful sacrifice.
ORCHANES.
The rest, my voice
Unwillingly relates—
ATHRIDATES.
Ha! say'st thou—speak!—
ORCHANES.
This moment, from the ramparts, I beheld
Pharnaces pass the gate, which, near his palace,
Leads to the royal tent.
ATHRIDATES.
Escap'd!—confusion!—
ORCHANES.
He but escap'd to make his fall more fatal,
More glorious your revenge. Domitius' troops,
With closing ranks, almost surround his camp,
Nor can his presence save his faithful bands
From Rome's all-conquering legions.
ATHRIDATES.
Yet one way
My power can reach his heart,—his queen,—his son—
Haste, force the palace gates; secure them both;
My eager fury will not brook delay.
