A prison.
Arbaces! / Gracious heaven, what's this I see!
That front, secure in conscious innocence
My son, Arbaces ~ Where art thou retired?
Not yet arrived! ~ / Sir, Artabanes!
Artabanes! / Where is Arbaces?
Ye adverse gods! y'ave found the only way
Mandane's apartment.
Perhaps the king released Arbaces
What have I done! alas, I vainly thought
Nor here my searching eyes can find Mandane
Ye powers! Arbaces! and at liberty!
A Temple, and throne, with a crown cnid sceptre.
To you, my people, much beloved, I offer
Fly quick, my liege; thousands of rebel troops
Hold, brother, the rebellious crew are fled
He murder Xerxes! Impious supposition!
Behold, my king, Arbaces at thy feet