Breathe at last,
o heart of Mithridates.
The cruelest of your fears has dissipated.
You have found your dearest son to be loyal,
and you are not compelled to punish in him
a too deeply loved rival.
As for Pharnaces,
to my jealous fury he presents himself
as a hated son, my enemy,
and a long-time admirer of Rome.
If Aspasia should love him,
if he takes away the affection she owes me,
that traitor may expect no pardon from me.
Because of him, I have already forgotten that I am a father.

Aria:

I want that rebellious ingrate
to fall bleeding and lifeless at my feet.
I shall avenge more than one offense
in his wicked blood.

No son is he who would
conspire to bring about my ruin.
Indeed, he even drives his father's consort
to cross and defy him.