The SCENE is the Camp. A Noise of Drums and Trumpets. Enter Aristomenes, Aristor, Demagetus, Alcander, several Officers and Soldiers. Enter an Officer from the other Door, and speaks to the General. Officer. My Lord! I'm from Alcander bid to say, The Battle he has marshall'd as you order'd; And that your Presence now is only wanted. Aristom Tell him we come; and let the Drums beat higher. Now, my brave Followers, be your selves to Day, And more I need not ask, that know your Valour; Who've seen you at the backs of Spartans ride, Till their long Flight, and not your Conquest, tir'd you. [The Soldiers shout. And Oh! my Sons, since they who bravely seek it, May meet with Death, when all his Darts are flying, Let me Embrace, and breathe my Blessings on ye. [Embraces Demagetus. Yet, Demagetus, if I 'scape him now, And Victory attends my great Endeavour, Thou shalt Triumphant lead me into Rhodes, Where we'll obey the Gods, and save thy Country. Dem Still you're the Best of Men, as they declar'd you. Aristom Now let me fold thee thus, my Life's best Treasure! [He embraces Aristor, but seems disorder'd, and not to feel him in his Arms, which he often clasps about him. Thou dost not fill my Arms, 'tis Air I grasp: Nor do my Eyes behold thee- Where is my Son, ha! where is my Aristo? Aristor Here my dear Lord, here pressing to your Bosom. [His Voice seems to Aristomenes (still under his disorder) to be low and different to what it was usually. Aristom From what far distant Valley comes thy Voice? It seems so hollow, scarce my Ear receives it. Aristor. What means my noble Father! Aristom . Till now, my faithful Senses never fail'd me. They talk of Omens, ha! I must not think on't; Such chilling Damps wou'd blast a Day of Battle: [ Aside. Yet let my evil Genius but be true, And a fam'd End is all it can portend me. Aristor You reason with your self, and turn from us. May we not know what thus disturbs your Thoughts? Aristom NothingaVapour crossed me, but 'tis gone: And now the Field, the dusty Field, my Sons, Must be the Scene, where we shall nobly act What our great Spirits, and our Country urges. The Trumpet calls, with the impatient Drum; And He that loves his Honour, let him come. [ He draws his Sword and goes off follow'd by the rest with their Swords drawn, Drums and Shouts of Battle immediately succeed.