Antiochus' chamber.
Cleopatra, Antiochus, Eunice, Rodogune.

CLEOPATRA

Eunice, cruel, heartless, sweet Eunice,
How could you leave me?

EUNICE

      Pardon me, dear lady.

ANTIOCHUS

Mine was the error, mother.

CLEOPATRA

    O my son,
If you had said that "mother" to me then,
All this had never happened.

ANTIOCHUS

    I have been hard
To you my mother, you to me your son.
We have both erred and it may be the gods
Will punish our offences even yet.

CLEOPATRA

O, say not that, my child. We must be happy;

I will have just a little happiness.

RODOGUNE

O, answer her with kisses, dear Antiochus.

CLEOPATRA

Do you too plead for me, sweet Parthian ?

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EUNICE

                                                 Cousin

Antiochus.

ANTIOCHUS

My hearths chastened and I love,
Mother, though even now I will not lie
And say I love you as a child might love
Who from his infancy had felt your clasp.
But, mother, give me time and if the gods
Will give it too, who knows ? we may be happy.

                                  Philoctetes enters.

PHILOCTETES

Pardon me. Madam, but my soul is harried
With fierce anxieties. You do not well
To linger with your son Antiochus.
A jealous anger works in Timocles
When he hears of it.

CLEOPATRA

Is't possible?

PHILOCTETES

                       Fear it!

Believe it!

CLEOPATRA (shuddering)

I will not give the gods a handle.
But I may take Eunice and your wife
To comfort me a little ?

ANTIOCHUS

Go with her,
Eunice. Leave me for an hour, my Rodogune.

All go from the chamber except Antiochus.
When, when will the gods strike ? I feel the steps  

Page – 449

Of Doom about me. Open thy barriers. Death;

I would not linger underneath the stroke.

                Phayllus enters with soldiers.

PHAYLLUS

Seize him! This is the prince Antiochus.

ANTIOCHUS

So soon! I said not farewell to my love.
Well, Syrian, dost thou carry only warrants
Or keeps the death-doom pace with thy arrest ?

PHAYLLUS

Thy plots have been discovered, plotter..

ANTIOCHUS

                        Plots!
Vain subtle fool, I will not answer thee.
What matters the poor pretext? Guards, conduct me.

                He goes out guarded.

PHAYLLUS

Must thou be royal even in thy fall ?

Page – 450