_Aben._ You've lived, and now behold your latest hour.

_Selin._ I scorn your malice, and defy your power.
A speedy death is all I ask you now;
And that's a favour you may well allow.

_Ozm._ [_shewing himself._]
Who gives you death, shall give it first to me;
Fate cannot separate our destiny.-- [_Knows his father._
My father here! then heaven itself has laid
The snare, in which my virtue is betrayed.

_Aben._ Fortune, I thank thee! thou hast kindly done,
To bring me back that fugitive, my son;
In arms too? fighting for my enemy!--
I'll do a Roman justice,--thou shalt die!

_Ozm._ I beg not you my forfeit life would save;
Yet add one minute to that breath you gave.
I disobeyed you, and deserve my fate;
But bury in my grave two houses' hate.
Let Selin live; and see your justice done
On me, while you revenge him for his son:
Your mutual malice in my death may cease,
And equal loss persuade you both to peace.

_Aben._ Yes, justice shall be done on him and thee.--
Haste and dispatch them both immediately. [_To a soldier._