SCENE IX.
Phraortes. Astarbe. Araxes.
Ara.
I spoke the King's commands; when from the crowd
One of the Captives rose, and humbly pray'd
Admission to the throne.
Phra.
I hear no suits.
Ara.
She wish'd to speak a matter of importance.
Phra.
Dismiss them all. Let us retire, my Queen.
Astar.
Araxes, stay.
[Araxes going out.
Phra.
What is Astarbe's pleasure?
Astar.
This matter should be search'd. The fate of Empires
Turns often on the slightest information;
And were my counsell worthy to be heard,
I would admit her.
Phra.
Let her be admitted.
[Exit Araxes.
[Phraortes seats Astarbe on the throne, then places himself by her. The Guards enter, and range themselves on each side.