The Works of Aphra Behn, Volume II

by Aphra Behn

THE YOUNG KING; OR, THE MISTAKE.

ARGUMENT.

Orsames, heir to the Dacian throne, has been kept in a castle from His infancy, never having seen any human being save his old tutor, Geron, owing to an Oracle which foretold great cruelties and mischiefs If he should be allowed to wear the crown. The Queen of Dacia designs Her daughter Cleomena as her successor, and with this intent gives her An Amazonian education. The Dacians and Scythians are at war, but Thersander, The Scythian prince, has joined the Dacians under the name Of Clemanthis, inasmuch as he loves the princess, who in her turn Becomes enamoured of him. He is recognized but not betrayed by Urania, a Scythian lady who, her lover Amintas having been previously captured, allows herself to be taken prisoner and presented to Cleomena. Amintas is confined in the old castle where Urania, visiting him, is accidently seen by Orsames. He is, however, persuaded by Geron that it is an apparition. Amintas is freed by Urania, who has gained Cleomena’s friendship. Honorius, the Dacian general, offers Thersander his daughter Olympia, and the young Scythian is obliged to feign acceptance. Cleomena hears Honorius telling the Queen his design and goes off enraged, only to see Thersander seemingly courting Olympia. She raves and threatens to kill him, but eventually parts with disdain, bidding him quit the place. Orsames is now brought from the castle during his sleep, crowned, seated on the throne and treated in every respect as King. His power is acknowledged, the Queen kneels before him, and Olympia entering, he falls violently in love with her. At a supposed contradiction he orders one courtier to instant execution and another to be cast into the sea. Immediately after, during a banquet, a narcotic is mingled with his wine and he is conveyed back to the castle whilst under its influence, leaving the Queen fearful that her experiment is of no avail as he has displayed so tyrannical and cruel a nature.

A battle between the Dacians and Scythians follows, in which the Latter are victorious owing to Thersander having, under his own name, Returned to their camp. The Dacian chiefs then challenge him to single Combat. He crosses over once again as Clemanthis and the lot falls upon himself. He thereupon dresses Amintas in the clothes of Clemanthis and arranges that in a pretended duel with him himself shall gain the upper hand. Meanwhile two rival princes to the hand of Cleomena post assassins in the wood to kill Thersander, and these, deceived by the garb of Clemanthis, mistake Amintas for the prince, and leaving him half dead on the ground and covered with blood and wounds, take their flight, imagining they have fully carried out their masters’ wishes. Amintas is just able to gasp the name ‘Thersander’, and Cleomena promptly concludes that Thersander has slain Clemanthis. She then herself assumes the attire of Clemanthis and goes out to the duel. She is wounded, her sex discovered, and she is borne from the field, whilst Thersander remains plunged in despair.

Meanwhile Orsames in his prison forces Geron to tell him the truth as to his adventure, whilst outside the populace are clamouring for him as king. Cleomena, disguised as a shepherd-boy, carries a letter to Thersander, and stabs him as he reads it. The Scythian king has her thrown into a dungeon, but Thersander obtains her release. Amintas meanwhile has been cured of his wounds by a Druid leech. Thersander is visited by Cleomena and reveals to her his identity with Clemanthis. They are at length united, and this event, with the arrival of Orsames, Who has been placed on the throne by the Dacians, joins the two countries in a lasting peace. It is explained that the Oracle is satisfied by his previous reign of a night.

SOURCE.

The plot of The Young King, which, as the Biograpbia Dramatitca well remarks, ‘is very far from being a bad one’, is taken from the eighth part of La Calprenède’s famous romance, Cléopatre. The adventures of Alcamenes (Thersander) and Menalippa (Cleomena) are therein related for the benefit of Cleopatra and Artemisa, temporarily imprisoned on shipboard. The narrative, which occupies some hundred pages, is n good example of those prolix detached episodes and histories peculiar to this school, which by their perpetual crossing and intertwining render the consecutive reading of a heroic romance so confused and difficult a task. Yet in this particular instance the tale is extraordinarily well told and highly interesting. Mrs. Behn has altered the names for the better. Barzanes in the novel becomes Honorius in the play; Euardes, Ismenes; Phrataphernes, Artabazes; Beliza, Semiris; whilst La Calprenède dubs the Scythian king, Arontes and the queen of Dacia, Amalthea.

Cléopatre, commenced in 1646, was eventually completed in twelve volumes. There is an English translation of the eighth part by James Webb (8vo, 1658), which he terms Hymen’s Praeludia, or, Love’s Masterpiece, and dedicates with much flowery verbiage to his aunt, Jane, Viscountess Clanebuy. A translation of the whole romance, by Robert Loveday, was published folio, 1668.

The story, however, is not original even in La Calprenède, being taken with changed names from Il Calsandro smascherato di Giovanni Ambrogio Marini (Part 1, Fiorenza, 1646; Part 2, Bologna, 1651), a French version of which, by Georges de Scudéri, appeared in 1668.

Some critics have seen a resemblance between the character of the young prince Orsames and that of Hippolito, ‘one that never saw woman,’ in Dryden and Davenant’s alteration of The Tempest (1667).[1] But the likeness is merely superficial. Mrs. Behn has undoubtedly taken the whole episode of Orsames directly from Calderon’s great philosophic and symbolical comedia, La Vida es Sueño (1633).[2] That Mrs. Behn had a good knowledge of Spanish is certain, and she has copied with the closest fidelity minute but telling details of her original. Calderon himself probably derived his plot from Rojas’ Viaje Entretenido. Basilio, King of Poland, to thwart the fulfilling of a horoscope, imprisons his son Segismundo from infancy in a lonely tower. The youth is, however, as a test of his character, one night whilst under the influence of a soporofic conveyed from his prison and wakes to find himself in a sumptuous apartment amidst crowds of adulating courtiers. He shows himself, however, a very despot, and throws an officious servant, who warns him to proffer greater respect to the infanta Estella, his cousin, clean out of window; he nearly kills his tutor Clotaldo, who interrupts his violent wooing; and, in fine, is seen to be wholly unfit to reign. A potion is deftly administered, and once more, asleep, he is carried back to the castle. The populace, however, rise and set him on the throne, and eventually the astrological forecast comes true; but at the same time he proves himself a worthy sovereign. All these details are to be found in The Young King, as well as Calderon’s scene where Rosaura, in pursuit of her lover, accidently encounters Segismundo in his prison.

The story itself is, of course, world-wide with a thousand variants. Oriental in origin, it is familiar to all readers of the Thousand and One Nights, when Abou Hassan is drugged by Haroun al Raschid, and for one day allowed to play the caliph with power complete and unconfined. The same trick is said to have been tried upon a drunkard at Bruges by Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, during his marriage festivities, 1440. Christopher Sly, well drubbed by Marian Hacket and bawling for a pot of small ale, will at once occur to every mind. Richard Edwardes has the same story in his Collection of Tales (1570); the old Ballad of the Frolicsome Duke sings it; Sir Richard Barckley repeats it in his Discourse of the Felicitie of Man (1598); and Burton found a niche for it in his Anatomy of Melancholy (1621). Simon Goulart included it in the Tresor d’histoires admirables et memorables (circa 1600), whence it was Englished by Grimeston (1607). In fact it is a common property of all times and all nations.

Although Mrs. Behn confessedly does not attain (nor was such her intention) the deep philosophy and exquisite melody of the great Spanish poet, she has produced a first-rate specimen of the romance drama, rococo perhaps, and with quaint ornaments, but none the less full of life, incident and interest.

FOOTNOTES:

1. This version of Shakespeare, and particularly the part of Hippolito, belong to Davenant, for, as Dryden says in the preface, Sir William ‘to put the last hand to it, design’d the counterpart to Shakespeare’s plot, namely that of a man who had never seen a woman.’.

2. Life is a Dream. English translation by John Oxenford, Monthly
Magazine, Vol. XCVI; by Archbishop Trench, 1856; by Denis Florence
Mac-Carthy, 1873; by FitzGerald (a private edition), ‘Such Stuff as
Dreams are Made Of’. It has also been excellently edited by Norman
Maccoll, Select Plays from Calderon (1888).

THEATRICAL HISTORY.

The earliest sketch of The Young King; or, The Mistake was written by Mrs. Behn whilst she was still a young girl at Surinam. Upon her return to England the rhyming play had made its appearance, and soon heroic tragedy was carrying all before it on the London stage. Influenced no doubt by this tremendous vogue, she turned to her early MS. and proceeded to put her work, founded on one of the most famous of the heroic romances, into the fashionable couplets. Traces of this may be found in the scene between Cleomena and Urania, i, II; in Orsames’ speech, iv, III, and elsewhere. Whilst she was busy, however, The Rehearsal was produced at the King’s Theatre, 8 December, 1671, and for the moment gave a severe blow to the drama it parodied. Accordingly, Mrs. Behn with no little acumen put her tragi-comedy on one side until the first irresistible influence of Buckingham’s burlesque had waned ever so slightly, and then, when her dramatic reputation was firmly established by the triumphant success of The Rover, the applause that had been given to Sir Patient Fancy and half-a-dozen more of her plays, she bethought of her earlier efforts, and after subjecting The Toung King to a thorough revision, in which, however, it retained marked traces of its original characteristics, she had it produced at the Duke’s Theatre in the spring of 1679. Mr. Gosse goes so far as to say that she had previously offered it to the theatres and publishers, but could find neither manager nor printer who would accept it. This, which he deduces from her dedication to Philaster, seems to me unwarrantable, and is not borne out by the play itself, which, baroque as it may appear to us, is certainly equal to, and indeed far better, than the rank and file of Restoration tragi-comedy. There is no record of its performance, and it never kept the boards. But although we have no direct evidence of its success, on the other hand it would be rash to suggest it was in any sense a failure. Indeed, since two editions were published we may safely assert its popularity. The actors’ names are not preserved, but Mrs. Mary Lee doubtless created Cleomena; Mrs. Barry, Urania; Betterton, Thersander; and Smith, Orsames.

TO PHILASTER.

’.is the glory of the Great and Good to be the Refuge of the Distress’d; their Virtues create ‘em troubles; and he that has the God like Talent to oblige, is never free from Impunity, you, Philaster, have a Thousand ways merited my Esteem and Veneration; and I beg you wou’d now permit the effects of it, which cou’d not forbear, though unpermitted, to dedicate this youthful sally of my Pen, this first Essay of my Infant-Poetry to your Self: ‘Tis a Virgin-Muse, harmless and unadorn’d, unpractis’d in the Arts to please; and if by chance you find any thing agreeable, ‘tis natural and unskill’d Innocence. Three thousand Leagues of spacious Ocean she has measured, visited many and distant Shores, and found a welcome every where; but in all that vast tract of Sea and Land cou’d never meet with one whose Person and Merits cou’d oblige her to yield her ungarded self into his protection: A thousand Charms of Wit, good Nature, and Beauty at first approach she found in Philaster; and since she knew she cou’d not appear upon the too-critical English Stage without making choice of some Noble Patronage, she waited long, look’d round the judging World, and fix’t on you. She fear’d the reproach of being an American, whose Country rarely produces Beauties of this kind: The Muses seldom inhabit there; or if they do, they visit and away; but for variety a Dowdy Lass may please: Her youth too should attone for all her faults besides; and her being a Stranger will beget civility, and you that are by nature kind and generous, tender and soft to all that’s new and gay, will not, I hope refuse her the Sanctuary I am so sensible she will have need of in this loose Age of Censure. You have goodness enough to excuse all her weaknesses, and Wit enough to defend ‘em; and that’s sufficient to render her Estimable to all the World that knows the generous and excellent Philaster; whilst this occasion to celebrate you under this Name, is both a Pleasure and Honour to. ASTERA.

THE YOUNG KING; or, The Mistake.

PROLOGUE.

Beauty like Wit, can only charm when new;
Is there no Merit then in being true?
Wit rather should an Estimation hold
With Wine, which is still best for being old.
Judgment in both, with vast Expence and Thought,
You from their native Soil, from Paris brought:
The Drops that from that sacred Sodom fall,
You like industrious Spiders suck up all.
Well might the French a Conquest here design,
Were but their Swords as dangerous as their Wine.
Their Education yet is worse than both;
They make our Virgins Nuns, unman our Youth.
We that don’t know ‘em, think ‘em Monsters too;
And will, because we judge of them by you.
You’ll say this once was so, but now you’re grown
So wise t’invent new Follies of your own:
Their slavish Imitations you disdain;
A Pox of Fops that purchase Fame with Pain:
You’re no such Fools as first to mount a Wall,
Or for your King and Country venture all.
With such like grinning Honour ‘twas perchance,
Your dull Forefathers first did conquer France.
Whilst they have sent us, in Revenge for these,
Their Women, Wine, Religion, and Disease.
Yet for Religion, it’s not much will down,
In this ungirt, unblest, and mutinous Town.
Nay, I dare swear, not one of you in seven,
E’er had the Impudence to hope for Heaven.
In this you’re modest—
But as to Wit, most aim before their time,
And he that cannot spell, sets up for Rhyme:
They’re Sparks who are of Noise and Nonsense full,
At fifteen witty, and at twenty dull;
That in the Pit can huff, and talk hard Words,
And briskly draw Bamboo instead of Swords:
But never yet Rencounter cou’d compare
To our late vigorous Tartarian War:
Cudgel the Weapon was, the Pit the Field;
Fierce was the Hero, and too brave to yield.
But stoutest Hearts must bow; and being well can’d,
He crys, Hold, hold, you have the Victory gained.
All laughing call—
Turn out the Rascal, the eternal Blockhead;
—Zounds, crys Tartarian, I am out of Pocket:
Half Crown my Play, Sixpence my Orange cast;
Equip me that, do you the Conquest boast.
For which to lie at ease, a Gathering’s made,
And out they turn the Brother of the Blade.
—This is the Fruit of Idleness and Ease:
Heaven bless the King that keeps the Land in Peace,
Or he’ll be sweetly served by such as these.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

DACIANS.

Queen of Dacia. Orsames, her Son, kept from his Infancy in a Castle on a Lake, ignorant of his Quality, and of all the World besides; never having seen any human thing save only his old Tutor. Cleomena, his Sister, bred up in War, and design’d to reign instead of Orsames; the Oracle having foretold the bloody Cruelties should be committed during his short Reign, if ever suffered to wear the Crown. Honorius, General of the Army, and Uncle to Orsames and Cleomena. Olympia, his Daughter, young and beautiful. Ismenes and | Two Rival Princes in love with Cleomena. Artabazes, | Geron, the old Tutor to Orsames. Pimante, a Fop Courtier. Arates, a Courtier. Semeris, Woman to Cleomena. Vallentio, a Colonel of the Army. Gorel, a Citizen. Keeper of the Castle. A Druid.

SCYTHIANS.

King of Scythia. Thersander, his Son, under the Name of Clemanthis, when on the Dacian side. Amintas, a young Nobleman, belov’d by Thersander, and Lover of Urania. Lysander, Page to Thersander. Urania, in love with Amintas. Lyces, a Shepherdess. Pages and Attendants, Courtiers (men and women), Officers, Guards, Soldiers, Huntsmen, Shepherds, Shepherdesses, Assassins, and all a Rabble of the Mobile.

SCENE, the Court of Dacia, between the two Armies just before the Town.

ACT I.

SCENE I. A Grove near the Camp.

Enter Pimante with Letters.

Gone! Well, I have never the Luck, I thank my Stars, to meet with any of these mighty Men of Valour.—Vallentio! Noble Colonel.

Enter Vallentio.

Val. Pimante! Why, what the Devil brought thee to the Camp?

Pim. Affairs, Affairs—

Val. They must be wondrous pressing that made thee venture; but the Fighting’s past, and all the Noise over; every Man of Fame gone to receive what’s due to his Merit; and the whole Camp looks now like a City in a great Plague, no stirring—But what’s thy Business here?

Pim. Why, I brought Letters from the Queen to that same mighty Man of Prowess—what d’ye call him?

Val. The brave Clemanthis?

Pim. The same—But, Colonel, is he indeed so very terrible a thing as Fame gives out?—But she was ever a notable Wag at History.

Val. How dare thy Coward-thoughts venture upon any thing so terrible as the remembrance of that Gallant Man? Is not his Name like Thunder to thy Ears? Does it not make thee shrink into thy self?

Pim. Lord, Colonel, why so hot? ‘Tis the cursed’st thing in the World to be thus continually us’d to fighting; why, how uncivil it renders a Man! I spake by way of Question.

Val. Oh! how soft and wanton I could grow in the Description I could make of him—He merits all in Peace as well as War; Compos’d of Charms would take all Womankind, As those of’s Valour overcome the Men.

Pim. Well said, i’faith, Colonel; but if he be so fine a Man, why did you not keep him here amongst you to do Execution on the Scythians? for I think e’er long you’ll give ‘em Battel.

Val. The General, whose noble Life he sav’d,
Us’d all his Interest with him, but in vain:
He neither could oblige his stay i’th’ Camp,
Nor get him to the Court. Oh! were his Quality
But like his Actions great, he were a Man
To merit Cleomena,
Whose Worth and Beauty, as a thing Divine,
I reverence.
But I abhor the feeble Reign of Women;
It foretels the Downfal of the noblest Trade, War.
Give me a Man to lead me on to Dangers,
Such as Clemanthis is, or as Orsames might have been.

Pim. Colonel, ‘tis Treason but to name Orsames, and much more to wish he were as King.

Val. Not wish he were! by all those Gods I will, Who did conspire against him in their Oracles. Not wish him King! yes, and may live to see it.

Pim. What should we do with such a King? The Gods foretel he shall be fierce and bloody, a Ravisher, a Tyrant o’er his People; his Reign but short, and so unfit for Reign.

Val. The Gods! I’ll not trust ‘em for a Day’s Pay—let them but give one a taste of his Reign, tho but an hour, and I’ll be converted to them.

Pim. Besides, he is very ill bred for a King; he knows nothing of the World, cannot dress himself, nor sing, nor dance, or play on any Musick; ne’er saw a Woman, nor knows how to make use of one if he had her. There’s an old fusty Philosopher that instructs him; but ‘tis in nothing ever that shall make a fine Gentleman of him: He teaches him a deal of Awe and Reverence to the Gods; and tells him that his natural Reason’s Sin—But, Colonel, between you and I, he’ll no more of that Philosophy, but grows as sullen as if you had the breeding of him here i’th’ Camp.

Val. Thou tell’st me heavenly News; a King, a King again! Oh, for a mutinous Rabble, that would break the Prison-Walls, and set Orsames free, both from his Fetters and his Ignorance.

Pim. There is a Discourse at Court, that the Queen designs to bring him out, and try how he would behave himself: But I’m none of that Counsel, she’s like to make a fine Court on’t; we have enough in the Virago he Daughter, who, if it were not for her Beauty, one would swear were no Woman, she’s so given to Noise and Fighting.

Val. I never saw her since she was a Child, and then she naturally hated Scythia.

Pim. Nay, she’s in that mind still; and the superstitious Queen, who thinks that Crown belongs to Cleomena—

Val. Yes, that was the Promise of the Oracle too.

Pim. Breeds her more like a General than a Woman. Ah, how she loves fine Arms! a Bow, a Quiver! and though she be no natural Amazon, she’s capable of all their martial Fopperies—But hark, what Noise is that?

[Song within.

Val. ‘Tis what we do not use to hear—Stand by.

SONG.

(1.)

_Damon, I cannot blame your Will, ’.was Chance, and not Design, did kill; For whilst you did prepare your Arms On purpose Celia to subdue, I met the Arrows as they flew, And sav’d her from their Harms.

(2.)
Alas, she could not make returns.
Who for a Swain already turns,
A Shepherd, who does her caress
With all the softest Marks of Love;
And ‘tis in vain thou seek’st to move
The cruel Shepherdess.

(3.)
Content thee with this Victory,
I’m Young and Beautiful as she;
I’ll make thee Garlands all the Day,
And in the Shades we’ll sit and sing;
I’ll crown thee with the Pride o’th’ Spring,
When thou art Lord o’th’ May_.

Enter Urania dress’d gay, Lyces a Shepherdess.

Ly. Still as I sing you sigh.

Uran. I cannot hear thy Voice, and the returns
The Echoes of these shady Groves repeat,
But I must find some Softness at my Heart.
—Wou’d I had never known another Dwelling,
But this too happy one where thou wert born! [Sighs.

Ly. You sigh again: such things become None but unhappy Maids that are forsaken; Your Beauty is too great to suffer that.

Ura. No Beauty’s proof against false perjur’d Man.

Ly. Is’t possible you can have lost your Love?

Ura. Yes, pretty Maid, canst tell me any tidings of him?

Ly. I cannot tell, by what marks do you know him?

Ura. Why, by these—a tempting Face and Shape,
A Tongue bewitching soft, and Breath as sweet,
As is the welcome Breeze that does restore
Life to a Man half kill’d with heat before;
But has a Heart as false as Seas in Calms,
Smiles first to tempt, then ruins with its Storms.

Ly. Oh, fair Urania! there are many more
So like your Love, if such a one he be:
That you wou’d take each Shepherd to be he:
’.is grown the fashion now to be forsworn;
Oaths are like Garlands made of finest Flowers,
Wither as soon as finish’d;
They change their Loves as often as their Scrips,
And lay their Mistresses aside like Ribbons,
Which they themselves have sullied.

Pim. Gad, I’ll venture in—

Val. Fair Women, and so near the Camp! What are ye, and from whence?

Pim. Ha! ‘tis no matter for that; ask no Questions, but fall to.
[Goes to Lyces.

Ura. I’m not asham’d to tell the one or t’other;
I am a Maid, and one of gentle Birth,
A Scythian born, an Enemy to thee,
Not as thou art a Man, but Friend to Dacia.

Val. What Sin have I committed, that so fair a Creature should become my Enemy? but since you are so, you must be my Prisoner, unless your Eyes prevent me, and make me yours.

Pim. How, take a Woman Prisoner! I hope you are a finer Gentleman than so.

Val. But, Madam, do not fear, for I will use you As well as such a Man as I can do.

Ura. Though thou be’st rough, thou hast a noble look, And I believe my Treatment will be gentle.

Val. Fair Maid, this Confidence is brave in thee;
And though I am not us’d to make returns,
Unless in Thunder on my Enemies,
Yet name the way, and I will strive to serve you.

Ura. Then, Sir, I beg that you would set me free,
Nor yet retain me here a Prisoner;
But as thou’rt brave, conduct me to the Castle on the Lake,
Where young Amintas lies, the Spoil of War.

Val. Amintas, Madam, is a gallant Youth,
And merits more from Fortune than his Chains;
But I could wish (since I have vow’d to serve you)
You would command me something
Worthy your Beauty, and of that Resolution.

Ura. There is no other way to do me service.

Val. Then most willingly I will obey you.

Ura. But, Sir, I beg this Virgin may depart, Being a Dacian, and a neighbouring Villager.

Val. All your Commands shall strictly be obey’d.

Pim. Pox on her, she’s coy, and let her go. Well, Colonel, I doubt you’ll be for the Queen by and by.

Ura. Here—take this Jewel as a part of payment, For all thy goodness to an unknown Maid. [To Lyces. And if by chance I ever see thee more, Believe me, Lyces, I will quit the score. [Ex. Lyces weeping.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Grove of Trees.

Within the Scene lies Thersander sleeping, his Cap and Feather at a distance from him.

Enter Cleomena drest like an Amazon, with a Bow in her Hand, and a Quiver of Arrows at her Back, with Semiris attired like her.

Cleo. I’m almost tir’d with holding out the Chase.

Sem. That’s strange! methought your Highness followed not So fast to Day as I have seen you heretofore.

Cleo. I do not use to leave the Game unvanquish’d,
Yet now by what strange inclination led I know not,
The Sport growing dull, I wish to meet a place
Far from the noise and business of the Day:
Hast thou ty’d fast my Horses?

Sem. Madam, I have.

Cleo. What place is this, Semiris?

Sem. I know not, Madam, but ‘tis wondrous pleasant.

Cleo. How much more charming are the Works of Nature
Than the Productions of laborious Art?
Securely here the wearied Shepherd sleeps,
Guiltless of any fear, but the disdain
His cruel Fair procures him.
How many Tales the Echoes of these Woods
Cou’d tell of Lovers, if they would betray,
That steal delightful hours beneath their Shades!

Sem. You’d rather hear ‘em echo back the sound Of Horns and Dogs, or the fierce noise of War.

Cleo. You charge me with the faults of Education,
That cozening Form that veils the Face of Nature,
But does not see what’s hid within, Semiris:
I have a Heart all soft as thine, all Woman,
Apt to melt down at every tender Object.
—Oh, Semiris! there’s a strange change within me.

Sem. How, Madam!

Cleo. I would thou knew’st it;
Till now I durst do any thing—but fear,
Yet now I tremble with the thoughts of telling thee
What none but thou must know—I am in love.

Sem. Why do you blush, my Princess? ‘tis no sin; But, Madam, who’s the happy glorious Object?

Cleo. Why, canst thou not guess then?

Sem. How is it possible I should?

Cleo. Oh Gods! not guess the Man! Or, rather think some God! Dull stupid Maid, Hast thou not heard of something more than mortal! ’.wixt Human and Divine! our Country’s Genius, Our young God of War! not heard of him!

Sem. ‘Tis not Prince Artabazes, or Ismenes?

Cleo. Away, thou anger’st me.

Sem. Pardon me, Madam, It can be none at Court, if none of these? And all besides are much below that Glory.

Cleo. What call’st thou much below, mistaken thing?
Can a gay Name give Virtue, Wit, or Beauty?
Can it gain Conquest, or in Fields or Courts?
No, nor defend its own fantastick Owner.
—Come, guess again.

Sem. I can guess no further than a Man, and that I’m sure he is.

Cleo. I know not— For yet I never saw him, but in’s Character, Unless sometimes in Dreams.

Sem. Is’t not enough he conquers where he comes,
But that his Fame prevents his Sword and Eyes?
Perhaps his Person may not be agreeable;
The best in Camps are not the best in Courts.

Cleo. So brave a Mind must have as brave an Outside.
My Uncle’s Letters from the Camp contain
Nothing but Wonders of his Worth and Valour,
And ‘tis impossible but such a Man
Must merit Love as well as Admiration.

Sem. Does he not come to Court?

Cleo. The Queen has made him many Invitations;
But he for some unknown and cruel Cause,
Humbly implores her Pardon for refusing:
Nor can the General learn his Quality;
But like his Deeds, believes it must be great.

Sem. ‘Tis most likely; but I should never fall in love with Fame alone.

Cleo. I hope it is not Love—but strange Curiosity
To see this brave Unknown—and yet I fear—
I’ve hid this new Impatience of my Soul,
Even from thee, till it grew too importunate;
And strove by all my lov’d Divertisements,
To chase it from my Bosom, but in vain:
’.is too great for little Sports to conquer;
The Musick of the Dogs displeas’d to day,
And I was willing to retire with thee,
To let thee know my Story:
And this lone Shade, as if design’d for Love,
Is fittest to be conscious of my Crime.
—Therefore go seek a Bank where we may sit;
And I will sigh whilst thou shall pity me.

[Stands with her Arms across.
[Sem. looks about, finds the Cap and Feathers.

Sem. See, Madam, what I’ve found.

Cleo. ‘Tis a fine Plume, and well adorn’d,
And must belong to no uncommon Man:
—And look, Semiris, where its Owner lies
—Ha! he sleeps, tread softly lest you wake him:
—Oh Gods! who’s this with so divine a Shape?

Sem. His Shape is very well.

Cleo. Gently remove the Hair from off his Face,
[Sem. puts back his Hair.
And see if that will answer to the rest:
—All lovely! all surprizing! Oh, my Heart,
How thou betray’st the weakness of our Sex!
—Look on that Face, where Love and Beauty dwells—
And though his Eyes be shut, tell me, Semiris,
Has he not wondrous Charms?

Sem. Yes, Madam, and I wou’d excuse you, if you shou’d now fall in Love, here’s Substance; but that same Passion for Fame alone, I do not like.

Cleo. Ah, do not call my Blushes to my Face,
But pardon all my weakness:
May not my Eyes have leave to gaze a while?
Since after this there’s not another Object
Can merit their Attention—
But I’ll no longer view that pleasing Form—
[Turns from him.
And yet I’ve lost all power of removing—
[Turns and gazes.
Even now I was in love with mere Report,
With Words, with empty Noise;
And now that Flame, like to the Breath that blew it,
Is vanish’d into Air, and in its room
An Object quite unknown, unfam’d, unheard of,
Informs my Soul; how easily ‘tis conquer’d!
How angry am I with my Destiny!
Till now, with much disdain I have beheld
The rest of all his Sex; and shall I here
Resign a Heart to one I must not love?
Must this be he must kill the King of Scythia?
For I must lay no claim to any other:
Grant, Oh ye Gods, who play with Mortals thus,
That him for whom ye have design’d your Slave,
May look like this Unknown,
And I’ll be ever grateful for the Bounty.
—But these are vain imaginary Joys.

[Thersander wakes, rises, and gazes.

Ther. Am I awake, or do my Dreams present me
Ideas much more bright and conquering,
Than e’er approach’d my waking Sense by far?
—Sure ‘tis Diana, the Goddess of these Woods,
That Beauty and that Dress confirm me ‘tis. [Kneels.
—Great Goddess, pardon an unlucky Stranger,
The Errors he commits ‘gainst your Divinity,
Who, had he known this Grove had sacred been,
He wou’d not have profan’d it by his Presence.

Cleo. Rise, Sir, I am no Deity; Or if I were, I cou’d not be offended [He rises. To meet so brave a Man—Gods, how he looks!

Ther. Can you be mortal! What happy Land contains you? or what Men Are worthy to adore you?

Cleo. I find you are a Stranger to this place, You else had known me to be Cleomena.

Ther. The Princess Cleomena! my mortal Enemy! [Aside.

Cleo. You seem displeas’d at the knowledge of my Name; But give me leave to tell you, yours on me Wou’d have another Sense.

Ther. The knowledge of your Name has not displeas’d me; [Kneels. But, Madam, I had sooner took you for The Sovereign of the World than that of Dacia; Nor ought you to expect less Adoration From all that World, than those who’re born your Slaves. —And amongst those devout ones number him, Whom happy Fate conducted to your Feet, And who’ll esteem himself more fortunate, If by that little service he had rendred you, _Clemanthis’. Name have ever reach’d your Ear.

Cleo. Clemanthis! what cou’d the Gods do more, [Aside.
To make me ever bless’d!—Rise, noble Youth—
[Raises him.
Cou’dst thou salute me Mistress of the World,
Or bring me news of Conquest over Scythia,
It would not reach so kindly to my Soul,
As that admir’d illustrious Name of thine.
This Crown’s in debt to your all-conquering Sword;
And I’m the most oblig’d to make Returns,
Which if you knew me, sure you wou’d not doubt,
If to those Favours you’ve already done us,
You’ll add one more, and go with me to Court.

Ther. To th’ Court? to th’ utmost Bounds of all the Universe.
At your Command, through Dangers worse than Death,
I’d fly with hasty Joy—
Like Gods, do but decree, and be obey’d.

Sem. Madam, the Company we left are coming this way, and with them Prince Honorius.

Ther. The General here so soon! [Aside.

Enter Honorius, Ismenes, Women, and Huntsmen.

Cleo. Welcome, victorious Uncle.
[Hon. kisses Cleo’s Hand.

Hon. Madam, I heard the Noise of Horns and Dogs,
And thought your Highness was abroad to Day;
Following the Cry, it brought me to this Company,
Who were in search for you, and ‘twas my Duty to attend them.
—My gallant Friend Clemanthis here!
This was above my hopes; let me embrace thee,—
And tell thee with what Joy I find thee in the presence
Of my fair Niece, who must prevail upon you
To wait on her to Court; what I cou’d not intreat, let her command.

Ther. Where Duty and my Inclination leads me, There needs no Invitation.

Cleo. Already, Uncle, he has promis’d it.

Ism. Sir, is this the Man to whom all Dacia is so much oblig’d?

Hon. This is that gallant Man, whose single Valour
Has gain’d the Victory over the Nomades,
Who kill’d their King, and scatter’d all their Forces;
And when my feeble Strength (which Age and Wars
Had made unfit for mighty Toils) grew faint,
He, like Aeneas, bore my aged Limbs
Through all the fiery Dangers of the Battel.

Ther. Too much you’ve said to my Advantage, Sir, Robbing the Gods and Fortune of their Glory.

Ism. Rank me amongst your Captives; for I find, Whether you fight or not, you must be Victor. [Embraces Ther.

Enter Vallentio, Urania, Pimante; Vallentio kneels and delivers Urania to the Princess.

Cleo. What new Encounter’s this?

Val. I need not ask where I shall pay my Duty: My Wonder will direct me to your Feet.

Cleo. Who knows the Man that makes me such a Present?

Hon. Madam, he is an Officer of mine,
A worthy gallant Fellow;
But one that hardly knows what Cities are,
But as he’as view’d ‘em through their batter’d Walls,
And after join’d ‘em to your Territories.

Cleo. Rise high in her Esteem that loves a Soldier.
[He rises.

Val. I need say nothing for my Prisoner, Madam,
Whose Looks will recommend her: only this,
It was against my Will I made her so,
Who ne’er refus’d till then to take your Enemies.

Ther. It is Urania, she’ll know me, and betray me. [Aside.

Cleo. Say, lovely Maid, whom, and from whence thou art?

Ura. A Scythian, Madam, and till now your Foe.

Pim. Ay, Madam, we took her, we took her.

Cleo. So fair an one must merit my Esteem:
I hope there are not many such fine Creatures
Brought into the Camp against us; if there be,
The Scythians cannot doubt of Victory.
—Thy Name and Business here?

Ura. Urania, Madam—
My Story were too tedious for your Ear,
Nor were it fit I should relate it here.
—But ‘tis not as an Enemy I come,
’.is rather, Madam, to receive my Doom;
Nor am I by the chance of War betray’d,
But ‘tis a willing Captive I am made:
Your Pity, not your Anger I shall move,
When I confess my Fault is only Love,
Love to a Youth, who never knew till now
How to submit, nor cou’d to ought but you.
—His Liberty for Ransom you deny;
I dare not say that this is Cruelty,
Since yet you may be pleas’d to give me leave
To die with him, with whom I must not live.

Ther. Excellent Maid! what Generosity her Love has taught her! [Aside.

Cleo. That you esteem me cruel, is unkind, But Faults of Lovers must Forgiveness find: _Amintas’. Chains had far more easy been, Had he been less a Favorite to his King. —But you, Urania, may perhaps redeem That Captive which I would not render them.

Ura. Madam, this Bounty wou’d exceed Belief, But you too generous are to mock my Grief: And when you shall m’ unhappy Story learn, ’.will justify my Tears, and your Concern.

Cleo. I need no Arguments for what I do, But that I will, and then it must be so.

Ura. The Prince of Scythia in the Camp of Dacia!
If I could be mistaken in that form,
I’d hate my Eyes for thus deluding me:
But Heaven made nothing but Amintas like him. [Aside.

Cleo. Come, let’s to Court, by this the Queen expects us:
—You, my fair Prisoner, must along with me:
[Takes her Hand.
—Thy Hand, Clemanthis, too—Now tell me, Uncle,
[Takes him with the other Hand.
—What Scythian that beholds me thus attended,
Would not repine at my Felicity,
Having so brave a Friend, so fair an Enemy?

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I. A Castle or Prison on the Sea.

After a little playing on the Lute,—enter Orsames with his Arms across, looking melancholy, follow’d by Geron with a Lute in his Hand.

Ors. I do not like this Musick;
It pleases me at first,
But every Touch thou giv’st that’s soft and low
Makes such Impressions here,
As puzzles me beyond Philosophy
To find the meaning of;
Begets strange Notions of I know not what,
And leaves a new and unknown thought behind it,
That does disturb my Quietness within.

Ger. You were not wont to think so.

Ors. ‘Tis true—
But since with time grown ripe and vigorous,
I will be active, though but ill employ’d.
—Geron, thou’st often told me,
That this same admirable Frame of Nature,
This Order and this Harmony of things,
Was worthy admiration.
—And yet thou say’st all Men are like to us,
Poor, insignificant Philosophers.
I to my self could an Idea frame
Of Man, in much more excellence.
Had I been Nature, I had varied still,
And made such different Characters of Men,
They should have bow’d and made a God of me,
Ador’d, and thank’d me for their great Creation.
—Now, tell me, who’s indebted to her Bounties,
Whose needless Blessings we despise, not praise?

Ger. Why, what wou’d you have done, had you been Nature?

Ors. Some Men I wou’d have made with mighty Souls, With Thoughts unlimited by Heaven or Man; I wou’d have made ‘em—as thou paint’st the Gods.

Ger. What to have done?

Ors. To have had Dominion o’er the lesser World,
A sort of Men with low submissive Souls,
That barely shou’d content themselves with Life,
And should have had the Infirmities of Men,
As Fear, and Awe, as thou hast of the Gods;
And those I wou’d have made as numberless
As Curls upon the Face of yonder Sea,
Of which each Blast drives Millions to the Shore,
Which vanishing, make room for Millions more.

Ger. But what if these, so numerous, though so humble, Refuse Obedience to the mighty few?

Ors. I would destroy them, and create anew.
—Hast not observ’d the Sea,
Where every Wave that hastens to the Bank,
Though in its angry Course it overtake a thousand petty ones,
How unconcern’d ‘twill triumph o’er their Ruin,
And make an easy Passage to the Shore?—

Ger. Which in its proud career ‘twill roughly kiss, And then ‘twill break to nothing.

Ors. Why, thou and I, though tame and peaceable,
Are mortal, and must unregarded fall.
—Oh, that thought! that damn’d resistless thought!
Methinks it hastens Fate before its time,
And makes me wish for what I fain wou’d shun.

Ger. Appease your self with thoughts of future Bliss.

Ors. Future Bliss! the Dreams of lazy Fools;
Why did my Soul take Habitation here,
Here in this dull unactive piece of Earth!
Why did it not take Wing in its Creation,
And soar above the hated Bounds of this?
What does it lingring here?

Ger. To make itself fit for that glorious End ’.was first design’d for,— By patient suffering here.

Ors. But, Geron, still to live! still thus to live
In expectation of that future Bliss,
(Though I believ’d it) is a sort of Virtue
I find the Gods have not inspir’d me with.

Ger. Philosophy will teach you, Sir,—

Ors. Not to be wise, or happy— I’ll hear no more of your Philosophy. —Leave me.—for I of late desire to be without thee.

Ger. This Disobedience, Sir, offends the Gods—

Ors. Let ‘em do their worst, For I am weary of the Life they gave.

Ger. He grows too wise to be impos’d upon,
And I unable to withstand his Reasons.—
[Ger. goes out.
[Ors. lies on the Ground.

Enter Urania, and Keeper.

Keeper. The Ring is sufficient Warrant, and your Path on the right Hand will lead you to the Lord Amintas— but have a care you advance no further that way.— [Exit Keeper.

Ura. What strange Disorder does possess my Soul!
And how my Blood runs shivering through my Veins,
As if, alas, ‘t had need of all its Aid.
At this encounter with my dear Amintas.

Ors. Ha! what Noise is that? [He rouzes.

Ura. I heard a Voice that way—or else it was the fear
This gloomy Place possesses all that enter it:
—Stay, I was forbad that Walk.
—Heavens! I have forgot which ‘twas I should have taken,
I’ll call my Love to guide me—Amintas, Amintas—

Ors. What Voice is that? Methought it had more sweetness in’t than Geron’s— [Rises, gazes, then runs fiercely to her. —Ha—what charming thing art thou?

Ura. ‘Tis not Amintas—yet I should not fear,
He looks above the common rate of Men.
—Sir, can you direct my way
To find a Prisoner out they call Amintas!

Ors.—Oh Gods! it speaks, and smiles, and acts like me;
It is a Man, a wondrous lovely Man!
Whom Nature made to please me.
—Fair thing, pray speak again:
Thy Voice has Musick in’t that does exceed
All Geron’s Lutes, pray bless my Ears again.

Ura. Sir, as you’re Noble, as you are a Gentleman, Instruct me where to find my Lord Amintas.

Ors. Bright Creature! sure thou wert born i’th’ upper World,
Thy Language is not what we practise here;
Speak on, thou Harmony to every Sense,
Ravish my Ear as well as Sight and Touch.

Ura. Surely he’s mad—nay, Sir, you must not touch me.

Ors. Perhaps thou art some God descended hither, [Retires and bows. And cam’st to punish, not to bless thy Creatures? Instruct me how to adore you so, As to retain you here my Houshold God, And I and Geron still will kneel and pray to you.

Ura. Alas, I am a Woman.

Ors. A Woman! what’s that? Something more powerful than a Deity; For sure that Word awes me no less than t’other.

Ura. What can he mean?—oh, I shall die with fear— [Aside. —Sir, I must leave you.

Ors. Leave me! oh no, not for my future Being!
You needs must live with me, and I will love you;
I’ve many things that will invite you to’t,
I have a Garden compass’d round with Sea,
Which every day shall send fresh Beauties forth,
To make the Wreaths to crown thy softer Temples.
Geron shall deck his Altar up no more;
The gaudy Flowers shall make a Bed for thee,
Where we will wanton out the heat o’th’ day—
What things are these, that rise and fall so often,
[Touches her Breasts.
Like Waves, blown gently up by swelling Winds?
Sure thou hast other Wonders yet unseen,
Which these gay things maliciously do hide.

Ura. Alas, I am undone, what shall I do?— [Aside.

Ors. Nature, thy Conduct’s wise! nor could thy Favours
Be giv’n to one more apprehensive of ‘em?
—Say, lovely Woman! for I am all on fire,
Impatient of delay,
Can you instruct me what I am to do? [Sighs.
Undress, and let me lead thee to my Bed.

Ura. Alas, Sir, what to do? defend me, Heaven! [Aside.

Ors. Why, I will hold thee—thus, between my Arms,
—I’ll see thee sleep, and wonder at thy Form,
—Then wake thee to be gazing on thy Eyes,
—And something more—but yet I know not what.

Ura. His whole Discourse amazes me, And has more Ignorance than Madness in’t: —But how shall I get free?

Ors. Thou grow’st impatient too, come, let us in—

[Goes to take her in, she strives to get free, he struggles with her.

Ura. Hold off, you are too rude.

Ors. This is the prettiest play I e’er was at, But I shall gain the better.— [Takes her in his Arms to carry her off.

Ura. Help, help!

Enter Amintas in Fetters.

Amin. A Woman’s Voice!—Villain, unhand the Lady.

Ors. Ha! what new thing art thou?

_Amin. One sent from Heaven to punish Ravishers.— [Snatches Ura. while Ors. is gazing on him.

Ors. Thou’st call’d up an unwonted Passion in me, And these be the effects on’t. [Ors. strikes him; they struggle and fall.

Enter Geron.

Ger. Hah! what’s the matter here? a Woman too! We are undone—Madam, I pray retire— For here’s no safety for your Sex.

Ura. I gladly take your Counsel. [Ura. goes into Amintas’ Apartment.

Ors. What art thou?

Amin. That which I seem to be.

Ors. Then thou’rt a God; for till I saw a Woman,
I never saw a thing so fine as thou:
And ‘tis but just thou shouldst be more than Mortal,
That durst command that Creature from my Arms.

Amim. It is the King—I know it by his Innocence, and Ignorance— [Aside. —Rise, I beseech you, Sir, and pardon me.

Ors. So I could live a Year with looking on thee; —But where’s the Creature call’d it self a Woman?

Ger. What Woman, Sir?

Ors. Ha! Geron, where’s the Woman?

Ger. What do you mean, Sir?

Ors. The Heavenly Woman, that was here but now.

Ger. I saw none such, nor know I what you mean.

Ors. Not what I mean? thou could’st not be so dull: What is’t that I have strove for all this while?

Amin. I’ll leave him too, my Presence may be hurtful, And follow the Lady that’s fled to my Apartment. [Ex. Amin.

Ors. Go, fetch the Woman, or, by Heaven, I’ll fling thee into the Sea.

Ger. I must delude’him. [Aside.

Ors. Fly, why stay’st thou dully here? go bring the Woman.

Ger. Sure you are frantick.

Ors. I am so, and thou shalt feel the effect on’t. Unless thou render back that lovely Creature.

Ger. Oh! this is perfect Madness, Sir, you’re lost; Call back your noble Temper, and be calm.

Ors. No, there’s a furious Tempest in my Soul, Which nothing can allay but that fine thing.

Ger. Hear Reason yet—no human Being can get entrance here;
Look round this Castle, and no other Object
Will meet your Eyes, but a watery Wilderness,
And distant and unhabitable Lands.
—What airy Vision has possess’d your Fancy?
For such the Gods sometimes afflict Men with.

Ors. Ha! an airy Vision!—Oh, but it cannot be; By all that’s good,’.was real Flesh and Blood.

Ger. And are you sure you are awake?

Ors. As thou art now.

Ger. Then ‘twas an Apparition.

Ors. Away—thou’st often told me of such Fooleries, And I as often did reprove thee for’t.

Ger. From whence, or how should any living thing get hither?

Ors. It dropt, perhaps, from Heaven, or how, I know not; But here it was, a solid living thing; You might have heard how long we talk’d together.

Ger. I heard you talk, which brought me to this place, And found you struggling on the ground alone; But what you meant I know not.

Ors. ‘Tis so—I grant you that it was a Vision
—How strong is Fancy!—yet—it is impossible—
Have I not yet the Musick of its Words?
Like answering Echoes less’ning by degrees,
Inviting all the yielding Sense to follow.
Have not my Lips (that fatally took in—
Unrest from ev’ry touch of that fair Hand)
The sweet remains of warmth receiv’d from thence,
Besides the unerring Witness of my Eyes?
And can all these deceive me? tell me, can they?

Ger. Most certainly they have.

Ors. Then let the Gods take back what they so vainly gave.

Ger. Cease to offend, and they will cease to punish.

Ors. But why a Woman? cou’d they secure my Faith By nothing more afflicting?

Ger. Shapes Divine are most perplexing.
To Souls, like yours, whom Terrors cannot fright,
It leaves desires of what it cannot gain,
And still to wish for that—
Is much the greatest torment of the Mind.

Ors. Well said—but, Geron, thou’st undone thy Aim,
And us’d the only Argument cou’d invite me
T’ offend again, that thus I might be punish’d:
The Gods themselves invite me to the Sin!
Not seeing a Woman, I had never bin.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. Another Room in the Prison. Enter Amintas _in Fetters with _Urania.

Amin. My gallant Maid! this Generosity,
Above thy Sex, and much above my Merit,
I never can repay: my dear Urania,
Thou did’st outdo thy Sex before in Beauty,
In all the Charms that make ‘em so ador’d:
But this last Act, this noble Mark of Love,
Begets a reverend Wonder in my Soul,
And I behold thee as some sacred thing,
That—this way should be worship’d—
[Kneels, and kisses her Hand.

Ura. I’m glad you have so kind a Sense of that
Which ev’ry Maid that lov’d like me wou’d do;
What cou’d you less expect?—Ah, my Amintas,
That fatal Night before our Wedding-day,
Being alarm’d by the Enemy,
And you were sent to try your Force with theirs,
My Heart foretold your Fate; and that same Night,
Whose darkness veiled my Blushes all alone,
Drest like a Youth I hasted from the Court,
And being well mounted, soon o’ertook the Army,
When, all unknown, I got so near your Person,
That in the Fight I had the Glory twice
To serve you, when your Horses being kill’d,
I still presented you with fresh, whose Riders
Thy Valour had dismounted.

Amin. Oh Gods! wert thou that Boy, Whom oft I said, I thought was sent from Heaven, And beg’d t’ encounter when the Fight was ended?

Ura. The same, ‘twas all you’d time to say; for after that, Venturing too far, they took you Prisoner.

Amin. Oh, with what Shame I look upon your Bounty, Which all my Life’s too little to acknowledge; What follow’d then, my dearest fair Urania?

Ura. I gladly wou’d have been a Prisoner too,
But I appear’d a poor dejected Boy,
That was not worth their Fetters.
—Then I resolv’d upon this last Adventure,
To make my Application to the Princess,
Knowing her noble Nature,
To try (since mighty Ransoms were refus’d)
What simple Love would do; and in my way
I lighted on a Druid, who in’s Youth
Had liv’d in Courts, but now retir’d to Shades,
And is a little Monarch o’er his Flocks;
To him I told my Story, who encourag’d me in my resolv’d design,
And I so luckily have made an Interest
In Cleomena’s Heart,
These Chains she’as given me Freedom to dismiss,
And you must only wear Love’s Fetters now:
[She takes off his Chains.
—Come, haste, Amintas, from this horrid Place,
And be thy self again, appear in Arms.
The Scythians are encampt within thy View,
And e’er three Births of Day the Armies meet;
Th’ Event of which, I at the Druid’. Cell
Will wait; sending continual Vows to Heaven
For thy dear Safety: there when the Fight is done,
I wish to meet thee;
—But now your Country and your King expect you,
And I love Glory equal to Amintas.

Amin. But yet the generous Bounty of the Princess
Obliges here, no less than Duty there;
I know not how the Gods of War to move
To grant me Victor, or the vanquish’d prove;
My Heart to either is not well inclin’d,
Since—vanquish’d I am lost, conquering unkind.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. A Grove.

Enter Thersander, Lysander.

Ther. Urge it no more, Lysander,’.is in vain,
My Liberty past all retrieve is lost;
But they’re such glorious Fetters that confine me,
I wou’d not quit them to preserve that Life
Thou justly say’st I hazard by my Love.

Lys. The Scythian Gods defend it!

Ther. The Gods inspire it, ‘tis their Work alone;
—I know she is my Enemy, hates Thersander,
Has sent for all the neighbouring Kings for aid,
That hither Artabases and Ismenes
Have brought their Powers t’ assist against my Crown.
But what of this? She loves me as Clemanthis,
Which will surmount her Hatred to the Scythians.
Oh, my Lysander! didst thou know her Charms,
Thou’dst also know ‘tis not a mortal Force
That can secure the Heart: She’s all divine!
All Beauty, Wit, and Softness! and she loves!
Already I have found the grateful Secret;
She scorns the little Customs of her Sex,
And her belief of being so much above me,
Permits her to encourage my Design;
She gives a Boldness to my bashful Flame,
And entertains me with much Liberty.

Lys. Were all this true, you’re equally unhappy; She must be only his that conquers you, That wins your Crown, and lays it at her Feet.

Ther. Love ne’er considers the Event of things,
The Path before me’s fair, and I’ll pursue it;
Fearing no other Forces than her Eyes,
Bright as the Planets under which they’re born.

Lys. And will you let her know you are in love?

Ther. If all my Sighs, if Eyes still fix’d on hers With Languishment and Passion, will inform her, I’ll let her know my Flame, or perish in th’ Attempt.

Lys. Dare you declare it as you now appear?
And can you hope, that under the Degree
Of what indeed you are, she will permit it?
And your Discovery is your certain ruin.

Ther. Thy Counsel, dear Lysander, comes too late, She’s in the Grove, where now I must attend her, And see where she approaches—

Enter Cleomena, Semiris.

Cleo. The Stranger, say you, grown of late so pensive!
—I must enquire the Cause—what if it shou’d be Love?
And that too not for me! hah, my Semiris!
That Thought has given me Pains I never felt;
—Gods! why comes he not? I grow impatient now;
—Say, didst thou bid him wait me in the Grove?

Sem. Madam, I spoke to him my self—

Cleo. And told him I wou’d speak with him?

Sem. As you commanded me, I said.

Cleo. It seems he values my Commands but little, Who is so slow in his Obedience: —Where found you him?

Sem. I’th’ Antick Gallery, Madam.

Cleo. Gallery! what did he there? tell me exactly, —I have no Picture there.

Sem. Madam, he was viewing that of Olympia, your fair Cousin, But for the Excellency of the Work, not Beauty.

Cleo. Thou art deceiv’d; viewing her Picture, say you?
—Oh, thou hast touch’d a tender part, Semiris;
—But yonder’s he that can allay my Rage [Sees Thersander.
And calm me in that Love by every Look.
—Clemanthis, you absent your self too much
From those to whom your Presence is agreeable;
I hear that you are grown retir’d of late,
And visit shady Groves, walk thus—and sigh,
Like melancholy Lovers. Has the Court
(Who for your Entertainment has put on
More Gaiety than in an Age before)
Nothing that can divert you? Cease your Ceremony;
[He bows low.
I am your Friend, and if ought harbour there
Within that sullen Breast, impart it here—
And I’ll contribute any thing to ease you.
—Come—boldly tell thy Griefs;
I have an Interest in thy noble Life.
—Perhaps, since you’re arriv’d at Court, you’ve seen
Some Beauty that has made a Conquest o’er your Heart;
—Whoe’er she be, you cannot fear Success.

Ther. The Honours you have heap’d upon your Slave,
Have been sufficient
To have encourag’d any bold Attempt;
And here are Beauties would transform a God,
Much more a Soldier, into an amorous Shape.
—But, I confess, with shame, I brought no Heart
Along with me to Court, and after that
What acceptable Sacrifice can I offer?
This makes me shun the Pleasures of your Court,
And seek Retirements silent as my Griefs.

Cleo, It seems you were a Lover e’er I saw you, And Absence from your Mistress makes you languish.

Ther. Ah, Madam, do not ask me many Questions,
Lest I offend where I should merit Pity;
The Boldness may arrive unto her Knowledge,
And then you’ll lose the humblest of your Creatures,
Whilst as I am, I may among the Croud
Of daily Worshippers, pay my Devotions.

Cleo. Give me your Hand, we’ll walk a little. [They go and sit dawn on a Bank. —How do you like this Grove?

Ther. As I do every place you’re pleas’d to bless. Heaven were not Heaven, were Gods not present there; And where you are, ‘tis Heaven every where.

Cleo. Look, Clemanthis—on yonder tuft of Trees, Near which there is a little murmuring Spring, From whence a Rivulet does take its rise, And branches forth in Channels through the Garden; —’Twas near a place like that—where first I saw Clemanthis. [Sighing.

Ther. Madam, be pleas’d to add, ‘twas also there Clemanthis left his Liberty at the Feet Of Divine Cleomena; And charg’d himself with those too glorious Chains, Never to be dismist but with his Life. [She rising in anger, he kneels.

Cleo. How, Clemanthis!

Ther. Ah! Madam, if I too presumptuous grow,
From your Commands, and all your Bounties to me,
You should forgive the Pride you do create,
And all its strange Effects;
Which if I have mistaken, let me die.
Only this Mercy grant me, to believe,
That if our Adorations please the Gods,
Mine cannot be offensive to my Princess,
Since they are equally Religious.

Cleo. Stranger—before I punish thy Presumption,
Inform me who it is that has offended?
Who giving me no other knowledge of him,
Than what his sword has done—dares raise his Eyes to me?

Ther. Madam, what you demand is just,
And I had rather die than disobey you;
But I am constrain’d by a Necessity
(Which when you know, you certainly will pardon)
For some time to conceal my Birth and Name.

Cleo. Till then you should have kept your Flame conceal’d, ’. had been less disobliging from a criminal one, Whose Quality had justify’d his Boldness.

Ther. Ah! Madam, wou’d Heaven and you wou’d find no other Difficulty Than want of Quality to merit you!

Cleo. I must confess, Clemanthis, with a Blush, That nothing of the rest displeases me.

Ther. Ah, Madam, how you bless me!
And now with Confidence I dare assure you,
That which should render me more worthy of you,
Shall be in me found more to your Advantage,
Than in those Princes who have taken on ‘em
The Glory of your Service.

Cleo. As I am very reasonable, and do act
With more Sincerity than Artifice,
I’ll now desire no more.
But have a care you use my Bounty well;
For I am now grown kind enough to think
That all you say is true.

Ther. Madam, banish me your Presence, as the Man
Of all the World unworthy to adore you,
If I present not to you in Clemanthis
A Man enough considerable to hope.

Cleo. But oh! Clemanthis, I forgot my Fate,
My Destiny depends upon my People;
Urg’d by the Queen, they’ve made a Resolution
To give me to that Prince who does most powerfully
Advance the Ruin of the King of Scythia.

Ther. Madam, I am not ignorant of the Conditions
That are impos’d on those who pretend to you;
I will not only serve you in this War
With more Success than any,
But set the Crown of Scythia on your Head.

Cleo. That’s bravely said.

Ther. Perhaps it seems extravagantly spoken,
In the Condition you behold me now;
But here I vow—I never will demand
[Kneels.
The Divine Cleomena till I have crown’d her—
Yes, Madam, till I have crown’d her Queen of Scythia.
—Till then—give me but hope—enough, to live—
[Rises.

Cleo. That’s to your Passion due; and when I know Who ‘tis I favour—I will more allow.

Sem. Madam, the Queen is here.

Enter Queen, Honorius, Artabazes, Ismenes, Guards,
Attendants, &c.

Queen. I am glad to see you all in Readiness;
To morrow I intend to be i’th’ Camp,
—And Cleomena is your General;
Since ‘tis her Cause we fight, it is but just
She share the Danger of it with the Glory.

Arta. We all approve it, Madam, and are proud
Fair Cleomena shall a Witness be
Of what we do to serve her,
And see the easy Conquest we shall make
Upon the Persons of her Enemies.

Hon. I know not, Sir, what you may do, But we have found it not so easy.

Arta. Oh, there’s no doubt, but we’ll depopulate Scythia, And lead its King, with the vain Prince his Son, Loaden with Irons, to adorn your Triumphs.

Ther. Madam, I must confess your Force is great,
And the Assistance of these Men considerable;
Yet I advise your Majesty to prepare
For the Defeat of the great King of Scythia,
As to a Business much more difficult
Than they present it to you: for I know
The Forces of that Nation are not less.
[Looks with scorn on them.
—Consider too, that King was never conquer’d,
Though these believe to do’t with so much ease.
I oft have seen Thersander, that young Prince,
Upon whose Sword Fortune her self depends,
—And I can tell—he’s not so easily chain’d,
As, Artabazes, you imagine him.

Arta. What, do you think to fright us with the Praises
You give our Enemies?
—I have heard of that King, and of Thersander too;
But never heard of so much Terror in ‘em,
Should make us apprehend an ill Success;
—And you, Clemanthis, do not know us well,
To think we’ll tremble for the Prince of Scythia,
Though many such as you should take his part.

Ther. How, many such as I! [Gomes up to his Breast. Gods! with your selves no other Enemies To join with that young Prince; To conquer him and many such as I, Requires a Number of such Kings as you.

Ism. It is too much, Clemanthis; were you well Affected to the Service of the Queen, You would not thus commend her Enemies.

Ther. Madam, I humbly beg your Pardon,
I have fail’d in the Respect I owe you,
By what I’ve said in favour of your Enemies,
Whom, whilst you think so easily o’ercome,
You will neglect that Power should make you Victor.

Qu. ‘Tis Virtue, Sir, that makes you give what’s due,
Though to the Advantage of those Men you hate—
—I must not have you take ought ill from him. [To the King.
But as you’ve all unanimously join’d
To assist us in this War, so all embrace,
[Ther. salutes ‘em coldly.
Be one and ever Friends.
Brother, I leave the Conduct of this hopeful Army [To Hon.
To your unquestion’d Care; and if you can,
Oblige this noble Stranger for ever in our Service.

Cleo. Uncle, I’ll to the Camp with you; And you, Clemanthis, must be near me still.

[Ther. bows. All go out but Ther. Hon. Lysan.

Hon. Clemanthis, you are troubled.

Ther. I was a little ruffled, but ‘tis gone.

Hon. You shou’d not blame them, Sir, for envying you, A Man so young, and such a Name in War.

Ther. That, Sir, is only your Esteem of it.

Hon. No, dear Clemanthis, that I may declare
To all the World and thee, how much I prize it,
Without consulting of your Quality,
I’ll make you absolute Master of my Fortune.

Ther. Heav’ns! whence this Generosity? [Aside.

Hon. I have a Daughter, Sir, an only Child,
Whom all the World esteems a virtuous one,
And for whose Love Princes have su’d in vain,
I now with Joy will render you in Marriage.

Ther. I am undone! [Aside.
It is a Princess, Sir, I must admire,
But never durst behold her with Eyes of Love,
A Maid so much above me.

Hon. I am a Man, whose martial Disposition
Renders me too unartful in my Language;
I cannot study Fineness in my Words,
But with Sincerity declare my Heart,
And do propose this Marriage with Olympia,
For your Advantage and the publick Interest,
Besides my own Content.

Ther. Have you consider’d, Sir, I am below her?

Hon. No more of that; go visit my Olympia, She is prepared to give you Entertainment. [Ex. Hon.

Ther. Marry Olympia!
No, cou’d he with Olympia give the World,
I could not love, nor marry her.
—Oh, my Lysander! what evasion now?
—Didst hear the noble Offer of the General?

Lys. I did, great Sir, and what will you return?

Ther. If I refuse, I must offend the Man
To whom of all the World I am most oblig’d,
And one who knowing me but by my Services,
Offers me what Thersander might accept.

Lys. It’s fit you should consult the Princess, Sir, What ‘tis you ought to do.

Ther. I’ll take thy Counsel—and wait upon Olympia: —Yes, I will go visit her, though but to prove No Torment can be like dissembled Love.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. A Chamber.

_Enter Queen, Cleomena, Honorius.

Qu. Is’t possible, my Brother, you can have
So great a Passion for the publick good,
As willingly to sacrifice your Child to its Repose,
And make her Arms the soft and easy Chains
To link this gallant Stranger to our Interest?

Hon. His Virtue I prefer above a Crown.

Cleo. You shou’d love Virtue as you ought to love it; Not give it over-measure—But are you sure he will accept it?

Hon. I am not certain, being not come so far; But I propos’d it, and no doubt he lik’d it.

Cleo. This cannot be his Malice; for he was ever noble,
[Hon. talks to the Queen.
But false or feign’d, I can endure no more on’t:
—By Heaven, this Stranger’s false! false as his Name!
—Semiris found him gazing on her Picture:
—’Tis so—he loves Olympia!
And when I ask the Name of her he lov’d,
I urg’d it with such softness in my Eyes,
That he in Pity of me swore ‘twas I:
—Now can I find how much my Soul’s possest
With Love, since ‘tis with Jealousy opprest.
[Goes out.

Qu. How do you like the Trial of Orsames, Which I intend to make?

Hon. You’ll oblige your People, and do a Mother’s Duty.

Qu. You know ‘twas not the Tyrant in my Nature, That from his Infancy has kept him ignorant Of what he was—but the Decrees of Heaven.

Hon. Madam, ‘tis true; and if the Gods be just, He must be King too, though his Reign be short: You cannot alter those Decrees of Heaven.

Qu. The Gods are Witness how these eighteen Years I have with much Regret conceal’d his Birth.

Hon. You know the last Defeat the Scythians gave us,
Th’ impatient People broke the Castle-gates,
And against all your Powers were ready to have crown’d him;
And shou’d we now be conquer’d, nothing less
Will still the mutinous Army: try him, Madam,
He may be fit for great Impressions,
Had he but good Examples to dispose him.

Qu. I’ll have it done to night. Heaven, if it be thy Will, inspire my Son With Virtue fit to wear his Father’s Crown. [Exeunt.

Scene draws off, discovers Thersander seemingly courting
Olympia. Enter Cleomena; sees them, starts, gazes
on them, then goes out unseen. The Scene closes and
changes to her Apartment.—She enters in a Rage—

Cleo. Perfidious Man! am I abandon’d then? [Rage.
Abandon’d for Olympia! my Slave—
And yet I lov’d him more than I did Heaven— [Soft.
And shall he quit me thus?
Without being punish’d for this Infidelity?
—No, let me be a shame to all my Sex then
—Oh, Clemanthis! to whom I fondly gave my Liberty,
When first I saw thee sleeping in the Wood.
—But I grow soft, a Passion too unfit
For so much Anger as my Soul’s possess’d with;
’.was but even now he lov’d me with such Ardor,
And he who promis’d me the Crown of Scythia,
Dar’st thou become unjust, ungrateful Stranger!
Who having rais’d thy Eyes to Cleomena,
Would sacrifice her to another Mistress?
—This Heart, which ought not to’ve been given away,
But by the Services and Blood of Kings,
How hast thou lost it on a false Unknown,
Without being paid for it one single Sigh!—

Enter Thersander; she draws a Dagger; offers to kill
him, but cannot.

Traitor—hast thou the impudence to appear before me,
Or dost thou come to meet thy just Reward?
[Offers to stab him.
—There’s something in his Looks that does preserve him,
Or I’m not truly brave, and dare not kill him.
—Go, treacherous Unknown, whom I’ve preferr’d
Before so many Princes, who in vain
Sue for this credulous Heart which thou’st betray’d.

Ther. Ah! Madam, can you be thus cruel to me, And not inform me how I have offended?

Cleo. Be gone, I say, if thou would’st save a Life, Which those that dare do evil fear to lose.

Ther. Those Eyes thus order’d are far worse than Death.
End what you have so well begun,
And kill me;
Yet from another’s Hand
The Blow would he less cruel.

Cleo. Oh, Impudence!
Still he wou’d cheat my Rage, as he has abus’d my Love;
But, Monster, though thou art below my Hand,
I’m yet a Princess, and I can command.
By Heaven, I’ll try how much Rage can invent.
Semiris, call Qlympia to me strait;
She shall in Triumph with me stand and smile,
To see thee by some Vassal bleed.

Ther. There needs no other witness of my Death.
But her I have offended;
To you alone I offer up my Life: for dying,
I’ve something to relate may justify your Rage,
Though not deserve your Pity.

Cleo. Hell!
Now I’m confirm’d, he fears that she should see
Him die, lest it should cost her but a Tear;
—Why should I want the Strength?
—But Oh, I cannot.
[Offers to present the Dagger.
But canst thou live, false Man, and see me frown?

Ther. No, Madam, I can die—thus—
[Offers to fall on his Sword.

Cleo. Stay—
Thou shalt not so much Glory gain:
No, live, and prove wretched enough to know
How very poorly thou hast lost my Heart.
[Ex. raving.
[Ther. gazes after her.

Ther. Must I then live?—I will obey—farewel,
The fairest and unkindest of thy Sex;
If e’er it be thy chance to meet with one
That loves more than Thersander, if thou canst
Treat him worse than thou hast done me—
For oh! how miserable is the Wretch, whose Prayer
Repuls’d, like me, lives only to despair.

[Exit.

ACT III.

SCENE I.

The Curtain is let down—being drawn up, discovers Orsames seated on a Throne asleep, drest in Royal Robes, the Crown and Sctpter lying by on a Table. Geron near the Throne. On either side of the Stage, Courtiers ready drest, and multitude of Lights. Above is discovered the Queen, Olympia, and Women, Pimante, Artabazes, Ismenes; Soft Musick plays;—whilst he wakes by degrees, and gazes round about him, and on himself with Wonder.

Ors.—Gods! what am I? —Or, is there any other God but I?

Ger. Yes, my great Lord; But you’re a King, a mighty Monarch, Sir.

Ors. I understand thee, ‘tis some God thou mean’st.

Ger. On Earth it is: your Power too is as great;
Your Frowns destroy, and when you smile you bless;
At every Nod the whole Creation bows,
And lay their grateful Tributes at your Feet;
Their Lives are yours, and when you deign to take ‘em,
There’s not a Mortal dares defend himself:
But that you may the more resemble Heaven,
You should be merciful and bountiful.

Ors. I do believe I am the King thou speak’st of.

Ger. Behold this Crown—this sacred Thing is yours.

[Kneels and gives him the Scepter and Crown; he puts it on, and walks about.

Ors. It is a glorious Object— And fit for none but me—

Olymp. Madam, methinks the King is the finest Man That e’er I saw—shall he not still be King?

Qu. I hope he will deserve it.

Ors. So, now methinks I move like Heaven itself, All circled round with Stars, —Hah! what’s this that kneels?

[The Queen kneels, he snatches her up.

Ger. The Queen your Mother, Sir.—

Ors. By my great self it is another Woman,
Which I have burnt with a desire of seeing.
—Be gone, and leave us here alone together;
I’ve something to impart to this fair Thing,
Must not be understood by you.

Qu. Why, Sir, what is it you can impart to me, Which those about you must not understand?

Ors. A new Philosophy inspir’d by Nature, And much above whatever Geron taught. —Come and augment my Knowledge.

Qu. Why me, Sir, more than any one about you?

Ors. Thou art all soft and sweet like springing Flowers, And gentle as the undisturbed Air.

Qu. But I am your Mother.

Ors. No matter; thou’rt a Woman, art thou not? And being so, the Mother cannot awe me.

Ger. Sir, ‘tis the Person gave you Life and Being.

Ors. That gave me Life! oh, how I love thee for’t! Come—and I’ll pay thee back such kind Returns—

Ger. Most Royal Sir, this Woman was Not made by Heaven—for you.

Ors. Away with your Philosophy; but now you said— I was a King, a mighty God on Earth, And by that Power I may do any thing.

Ger. But Kings are just as well as powerful, Sir.

Ors. I am so to my self, do not oppose me.

Ger. Sir, this one is not meant, not form’d for you.

Ors. Am I a God, and can be disobey’d?
Remove that Contradiction from my sight,
And let him live no longer: ha, more Women!
[Exit Geron.

Enter Olympia and other Women.

Oh Nature, how thou’st furnish’d me with Store!
And finer far than this—
[Gazes on Olympia.
—But what is that whose Eyes give Laws to all,
And like the Sun, eclipse the lesser Lights?

Qu. Speak to him, Olympia.

Ors. Who tells me what she is?

Olym. Oh, how I tremble!—Sir, I am a Maid.

Ors. A Maid! and may you be approacht with Knees and Prayers [Kneels.

Olym. I am your Slave, you must not kneel to me— Takes him up.

Ors. How soon my Glory’s vanisht!
Till now I did believe I was some God,
And had my Power and my Divinity
Within my Will; but by this awful Fear,
I find thou art the greater Deity:
—Pray tell me, fairest, are you not a Woman?

Olym. I am a Woman, and a Virgin, Sir.

Ors. I did believe that thou wert something more,
For I have seen a Woman, and ne’er knew
So much Disorder in my Soul before:
—For every Look of thine gives me a Pain,
And draws my Heart out of its wonted Seat.

Olym. Alas, Sir, have I hurt you?

Ors. Extremely hurt me, thou hast a secret Power,
And canst at distance wound,
Which none but Heaven and you cou’d ever do.
—But ‘twas my Fault; had I not gaz’d on thee,
I had been still a King, and full of Health.
—Here—receive this Crown, ‘tis now unfit for me,
Since thou hast greater Power—whilst it sits here—
[He takes off his Crown, and puts it on her.
It looks like Stars fall’n from their proper Sphere:
—So, now they’re fixt again.

Qu. Pimante, speak to him to take it back.

Pim. He kills me with his Looks. —Sir, when you part with this, you’ll be despis’d; Your Glory, and your Thunder, all will vanish.

Ors. I yet have something that shall make thee fear, I’m still a King, though I must bow to her; Take him away to Death immediately—

Pim. Any where to be out of your Sight— A King, quotha? [Exit.

Ors. Come, my fair Virgin, this shall be my Altar, And I will place thee here, my Deity.

Qu. Great Sir, that Throne is only fit for you.

Ors. I say again, I’ll have it fit for two:
Thou art a Woman, thank the Gods for that:
—Ascend, my lovely Virgin, and adorn it;
Ascend, and be immortal as my self.

Art. That Throne she was not born to.

Ors. Into the Sea with that bold Counsellor, And let him there dispute with Winds and Waves. [Art. ex.

Being seated on a Throne, enter several in Masquerades,
and dance.

—Cou’d I be sensible of any Pleasure,
But what I take in thee, this had surpriz’d me.

Olym. A Banquet, Sir, attends you.

Ors. Dispose me as you please, my lovely Virgin; For I’ve resign’d my Being to your Will, And have no more of what I call my own, Than Sense of Joys and Pains, which you create. [They rise, and sit down at a Banquet. He gazes on her.

Olym. Will you not please to eat?

Ors. It is too gross a Pleasure for a King.
Sure, if they eat, ‘tis some celestial Food,
As I do by gazing on thy Eyes—
Ah, lovely Maid—

Olym. Why do you sigh, Sir?

Ors. For something which I want; yet having thee, What more can Heaven bestow to gratify My Soul and Sense withal?

Olym. Sir, taste this Wine; Perhaps ‘twill alter that deceiv’d Opinion, And let you know the Error of your Passion; ’.will cause at least some Alteration in you.

Ors. Why shouldst thou ask so poor a Proof of me? But yet, I will obey,—give me the Wine.

[They put something into the Bowl.

Olym. How do you like it, Sir?

Ors. Why—well; but I am still the same.
Come, give it me again—’tis very pleasant—
Will you not taste it too?—
Methinks my Soul is grown more gay and vigorous;
What I have drank, has deify’d thee more,
Heightens the Pleasure which I take to gaze on thee,
And sends a thousand strange uneasy Joys,
That play about my Heart, and more transport me—
Drink, my fair Virgin, and perhaps thy Eyes
May find some Charms in me to make thee thus.

Olym. Alas, they’ve found already but too many. [Aside.

Ors. I thought I must have gaz’d on thee for ever;
—But oh! my Eyes grow heavy in the Play,
As if some strange Divinity about me
Told me my Safety lay in their Declension.
—It is not Sleep!—sure, Kings do never sleep;
That were a low submission to a Power
A Monarch shou’d despise—but yet ‘tis so:
Ye Gods, am I but mortal then?
Or do you ever sleep? I find ye do!
But I must—and lose this lovely Object:
Grant, oh ye Gods, that I may find it in a Dream,
Let her Idea hover about my Soul,
And keep it still in this harmonious Order
—And gently blow the Flame’t has kindled there.
[Falls asleep.

Enter Geron, Pimante, and Arates.

Pim. Are you sure he’s asleep?

Ger. How do you like him, Madam?

Qu. I fear he is a Tyrant in his Nature.

Ger. But since he can be tam’d by Love and Beauty, You should not doubt but he’ll be fit to reign.

Qu. Remove him now into his own Apartment, And still continue to impose upon him, Till you receive new Orders.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Grove near the Camp.

Enter Cleo. with a Truncheon in her Hand, a Sword and a Quiver of Arrows by her side, with Semiris.

Sem. Madam, you are sad, As if you doubted your Success to day.

Cleo. There are some Moments wherein I do repent me The too rash Banishment of poor Clemanthis. How did he take the Letter which I sent?

Sem. As Persons innocent and full of Health
Receive unlookt-for Sentences of Death;
He sigh’d, and said he wou’d obey your Will:
And, Madam, had you seen his silent Grief,
You wou’d have thought him innocent.

Cleo. Innocent! banish that foolish Pity from your Heart,
That wou’d persuade thee he is innocent.
Did I not see him courting of Olympia?
And can my Eyes deceive me?

Sem. Olympia, Madam! Gods, what do I hear! Till now I did not know his Fault of Banishment.

Cleo. And was’t not cause enough?

Sem. Ah, Madam, what Injustice have you done?
Before Clemanthis came into your Cabinet,
He entertain’d me for a pretty while
With the Intentions of your generous Uncle;
He told me how he offer’d him Olympia,
And that he durst not seem to disesteem it,
Being your Uncle, and a Man to whom
He ow’d so much; but most to hide his Passion:
And then was coming to consult with you,
How he should manage this Affair with him.

Cleo. And is this Truth thou tell’st me, dear Semiris?

Sem. Madam, I do not use t’abuse your Credit.

Cleo. Fly then, Semiris, and reverse his Doom.

Sem. Would I knew whither, Madam.

Cleo. Why, is he no longer then in the Camp?

Sem. Ah, Madam, is he longer in the World? For ‘tis impossible to be imagin’d He parted hence with any Thought of Life.

Cleo. Send ev’ry way to find him—hark, I’m call’d— [Trumpets sound. And he that finds him first, is made for ever. Oh Jealousy, thou Passion most ingrate! Thy Ills procure more Mischief than thy Hate. ’.is thou art Tyrant, when Love bears the blame, ’.is pity thou’rt consistent with Love’s Flame. I’ll not my Weakness nor Resentment show; A Heart like mine, should sooner break than bow. —Come, my Semiris, we too long have stay’d; That Call, till now, was never disobey’d.

[Trumpets sound. Ex.

SCENE III. Scythian Tents.

Enter Amintas, drest fine, with Urania.

Ura. Within this Shade till the black Day be past, I will attend thy Fortune, or thy Fate.

Amin. The King has taken Horse, the Fight’s begun, And I must leave thee to the Gods and Prayer.

Ura. Why was I made a Woman? or being so,
Why had I not a masculine Courage given me?
That side by side I might have shar’d thy Glory,
Or have expir’d together?

Amin. Thou wilt undo me with this Tenderness.
Come send me kindly from thee,
With Joys about my Heart that may preserve it;
Here rest till my Return; farewel, my Fair.

Ura. And if I never see thee more, farewel— [Amin. exit. Here I will lay me down, and never rise, Till thou return’st with Laurel, or with Cypress. [Sits down. Now I cou’d curse the Fortune of my Prince, Who quits a Father for an Enemy, To satisfy a Flame will ruin him. [A noise of Fighting. —The Fight increases; Oh ye Gods of Battel, In midst of all your Rage preserve my Love.

Enter Artabazes over the Stage, and goes out.

Art. My Nephew kill’d! and I dismounted too! oh curst Fate!

Ura. This Noise has comfort in’t, it sounds like Victory.

[A hollowing within amongst the noise of Fighting. Enter Amintas.

—Oh Gods! Amintas! what has Fortune done?

Amin. The undaunted Scythians never lost the Field;
Yet now at first ‘twas doubtful
To which side Fortune would incline her self
Ismenes kill’d where’er he turn’d his Sword,
And quite defeated our Agrippian Forces;
Yet was not satisfy’d, knowing the King
To be the Price of Cleomena’s Heart,
But sought him out on all sides,
Whom ‘twas not hard to find;
For he was hurrying now from Rank to Rank,
Distributing a Death to all Opposers.
But young Ismenes having pierc’d the Squadrons,
And knowing our great King by several Marks,
Boldly cry’d out,—Defend the Life I claim.
The King made no Reply, but at that Word
Prepar’d himself to fight.

Ura. Thou kill’st me, till thou bring’st him off again.

Amin. Disorder’d thus—the Dacian took Advantage,
And charg’d with so much Vigour—we gave Ground;
When on that side the single Combat was,
There appear’d a Body of two thousand Horse,
Led by a Man, whose Looks brought Victory,
And made the conquering Foe retire again:
But when he did perceive the King engag’d,
With unresisted Fury he made up,
And rushing in between them,
Gave the young Prince a blow upon his Head,
That struck him from his Horse.
After this Victory Thersander’s Name
Did fly from Mouth to Mouth,
Inspiring every Scythian with new Valour:
He kill’d Philemon, and forc’d Artabazes
To seek his Safety by his Horse’s Flight;
—But here’s the King—retire into this Wood.
[Ura. Ex.

Enter King, Thersander, Officers, and Soldiers.

King. Let me once more embrace my dear Thersander.

Amin. The Prince is wounded, Sir.

King. He is—but they look lovely on him.

Ther. They’re too slight Marks to give you of my Duty; Your Majesty has greater need of Care.

King. Thou art my best Physician, and thy sight
Heals all the Wounds I have: come in with me,
And let me lay thee to my panting Bosom,
Thou great Preserver of my Crown and Life.

Ther. I’ll wait upon you, Sir,
[Exeunt all but Ther. and Amin.
Now let me take thee to my Arms, my Friend;
For thou art half my self, my dear Amintas:
I have strange News to tell thee since we parted,
And need thy Counsel in an Affair of Love
—Thou know’st my business to the Dacian Court
Was to have set thee free; but oh, my Friend!
In lieu of that I’ve made my self a Captive.

Amin. Your Story, Sir, I know, but heard withal, The Princess did repay your grateful Flame.

Ther. I thought she did, for so a while she seem’d;
And when I thought my self the most secure,
Being fortify’d with all her new-made Promises,
My blooming Hopes were blasted e’er full-blown,
And I receiv’d her Orders for my Banishment,
Which I as soon obey’d: but by the way,
I did conceive a thousand Revolutions,
Sometimes to serve my Princess—then my Father;
Sometimes ‘twas Nature got the upper hand,
And then again ‘twas Love: in this Dispute
I met the Levies of the Isadons,
Who were the last of all our Cavalry,
To whom I made me known, and came so luckily,
As gain’d the yet-disputing Victory.

Amin. ‘Twas in an happy Moment.

Ther. Thus I comply’d with what I ow’d my Duty.
But these of Love are still unsatisfy’d:
Dare I, who could offend to that degree,
As to deserve a Banishment from her,
Approach her uninvited?

Amin. ‘Twas dangerous, Sir.

Ther. Then ‘twere the fitter for my Enterprise:
—But her Displeasure—oh, my Cleomena!
If, for the Punishment of my Disobedience,
You’d only take away that Life you threaten,
How willingly I wou’d resign it up,
Rather than undergo this Separation!

Amin. You’ll certainly expose your Life by going:
What other Reason could she have to banish you,
But from her Knowledge that you were Thersander?
And, Sir, you see her Passion for Clemanthis
Cou’d not o’ercome her Hatred for her Enemy.

Ther. No, when I call to mind her cruel Words;
If chusing me before so many Kings,
I find ‘twas to the Stranger, not the Scythian,
She killingly addrest ‘em; therefore I’ll venture on in my Design:
—Give order that our Horses be made ready,
Whilst I excuse our Absence to the King; our stay will not be long:
Mean time it may be thought
We’re gone to view the Camp;
Interest and Love but rarely do agree,
Yet I must reconcile ‘em both to me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The Dacian Tents.

Enter Queen, Cleo. Hon. Arta. Ism. Women, Attendants.

Cleo. ‘Twas strangely lost, and yet I dare affirm,
The Victory had been ours but for Thersander,
Who like the impetuous Sea oppos’d by Land,
Made Breaches, and o’erflow’d all that lay near it.

Ism. I had reveng’d you on the King of Scythia, Had his Arrival not prevented me.

Cleo. He is brave, without dispute.

Ism. And ‘tis as certain that he did surprize me,
Without permitting time for my Defence,
He had not else so soon dismounted me.
But, Madam, I design (if you approve it)
To fight Thersander in a single Combat.

Art. That Justice I may hope as well as you; He kill’d my Nephew, young Philemon, For which I’ll be reveng’d.

Qu. I cannot but commend that noble Ardor That carries you to those Designs of Glory; What thinks my Brother of it?

Hon. I like it, if the Victor will accept it.

Cleo. And so do I;
And that we may do equal Justice to you all,
We’ll write Thersander’s Name,
And he who draws that Name shall fight the Combat.

Hon. But are you sure he will accept the Offer?

Ism. I dare engage he will.

Cleo. I am of your Opinion; The only brave are never proud of Conquest, I’ll write his Name my self.

Enter Page.

Hon. What Shouts are these? [A Shout without.

Page. Madam, Clemanthis is arriv’d.

Qu. The News is welcome.

Enter Ther. kneels, kisses the Queen’s Hand; the same to Cleomena—salutes all.

Ther. Madam, the great Necessity which made me leave you,
When I believ’d my self unprofitable,
Could not detain me when I was assur’d
My Sword could do you Service.

Qu. This Visit recompenses all our Loss, You’ve made it in a time you may redeem The Opinion your Absence almost forfeited.

Hon. Sir, I cou’d chide you too, but that your Sight Changes my Anger into kinder Welcomes.

Ther. I ought to suffer, Sir, in your Opinion, Till my Excuses may redeem my Credit.

Cleo. How great at once, and innocent he seems,
And how his Eyes his past Offence redeems!
Whilst all my Cruelties they seem t’ upbraid,
They pardon too the Faults themselves have made.

Qu. I’m satisfy’d, and you are fitly come To share a Danger we are now disputing.

Ther. ‘Tis not the Danger, Madam, can divert me From enterprizing ought that is to serve you.

Art. Madam, consider who we are, And ought not to be rank’d with one below us.

Ther. Your Honour, Artabazes, is too nice;
Would we could find in this Dispute, whate’er it be,
That were the greatest Difficulty:
—Madam, name your Commands.

Qu. We are drawing of a Lot To fight Thersander in a single Combat.

Ther. Hah—Thersander, Madam, is a Conqueror.

Ism. Since you’re so nice, we will excuse you, Sir.

Ther. What an unlucky accident was this! One Moment’s longer stay had made me happy, [Aside. And render’d up these Rivals to my Power.

Hon. Come, Sir, the Lots are ready. [They draw Lots. It falls to Ther.

Ther. My Fears are all compleated— [Aside. The Lot is mine.

Cleo. Clemanthis, I’m so sensible of the Danger [Aside to him.
Whereto you must expose your self for me,
I cannot think with Pleasure on the Victory
You possibly may gain.

Ther. Encourag’d thus, I cannot fail of Conquest; [Bows to her, and speaks low. But, Madam, if Thersander be as nice [Turns to the Queen. As these two Princes are, it will be hard To get him to accept a Challenge from me.

_Cleo. Clemanthis’. Deeds has rais’d his Fame too high
To be esteem’d unworthy of that Justice;
Nor can we find the Scythian Prince a Foe
More equal to his Youth and Valour too.

Ther. If Fortune bless me with Success to Day, I’ll owe it to your Cause and not my Sword.

Qu. May’st thou be ever Victor. [They lead him out.
Manent Arta. Ism.

Art. My Art shall fail me then.

Ism. You are displeas’d, Sir.

Art. Is that a Wonder?
Who can be tame, and see an unknown Youth,
Who brings no Forces but his single Arm,
Ravish the Hope and Spoil of Victory from us.
And rival us in Love as well as Glory,
Whilst both our Claims to Cleomena’s Heart
Must be neglected since we want Success?

Ism. We could pretend to her no other way.

Art. Have you, or I, less Virtue than Clemanthis?

Ism. Yes, if we envy at his Merits.

Art. Pursue your virtuous Road, and in the end
See whether you or I reach first the Goal.
I’ll take Revenge.
[Art. exit.

Ism. I Honour will pursue,
A Path which never led me to Repentance.
—Clemanthis, if thy Life I basely sought,
Like him, I’d save the Hazard of my own;
But as thou’rt brave, so thou shalt bravely fall
Before Thersander rob me of thy Life,
Or thou the Fortune hast to vanquish him—
And if in this Encounter I expire,
I do but fall a Victim to an hopeless Fire.

[Exit.

SCENE V. Changes to the Wood.

Discovers Ther. and Amin. among the Trees, changing
Clothes; after which they come forth.

Ther. So, now thou dost appear so like Clemanthis, That not a Dacian but will be mistaken in thee.

Amin. My Lord, I know not how I may appear, But I am ignorant how I am to act.

Ther. Remain within the Covert of this Wood,
Until the Sign be given for the Combat,
And then appear upon the Place appointed,
Where I will meet and fight with thee;
But so I’ll order all the Blows I give,
They shall not wound nor hurt thee,
For still remember I must be the Victor.

Amin. I will endeavour to perform it so, [Noise. That none shall know the Fallacy.

Ther. Be gone, I hear a Noise; farewel, dear Amintas, Remember that you act Clemanthis well. [Ex. Ther.

Enter some Fellows in Clokes.

1 Fel. That’s he that goes into the Wood, I know him by his Plume; are ye all ready?

2 Fel. Yes, for a greater Murder than the killing of one single Man; and here’s a Place as fit as we could wish; shall we set upon him altogether?

1 Fel. Ay, ay, Neatness in this Affair is not required: kill him, and Artabazes desires no more.

[The Fellows go behind the Trees, they fight, Amintas falls.

Enter Ismenes.

Ism. Into this Wood he went, as if he knew my Business, Here we unseen may end the Difference— [Noise within. —Hark—what Noise of fighting’s that? Perhaps my Aid’s requir’d. [Exit.

Ism. goes in, Scene draws open, discovers Amintas lying as dead all bloody, Pimante peeping; Ism. re-enters.

Ism. It is Clemanthis, and this barbarous Deed Is done by Artabazes. [Exit.

Enter Pimante.

Pim. Had ever Cavalier such damn’d Luck? I have heard it disputed, that this same Danger was to be courted by the Brave and Bold; but I, who took the best Care I could whilst the Fight lasted to secure my self by this Retreat, find my self even here surrounded with it; and poor Clemanthis, who, I’ll warrant, came too with my Design, has met here what he endeavour’d to shun: Yonder’s Ismenes too—well, we are all but Men.

Ism. Here’s yet some Breath remaining; oh, Pimante, lend thy Assistance. —Clemanthis, if thou yet hast so much Sense, Inform us how thou cam’st thus wounded?

Amin. Know, Sir, Thersander—Prince of Scythia—Thersander— Prince of Scythia. [Faints.

Pim. Alas, he’s dead, Sir, trouble him no further.

Ism. The Prince of Scythia do this!

Pim. Ay, ay, this mighty Prince fearing to encounter a single Man, has set a dozen to kill him; Mercy upon us, ‘twas a bloody Fight: but, Sir, what shall we do with the Body?

Ism. If I could command thee any thing it should be Silence, Till I have met Thersander in his Room. [Ism. exit.

Pim. You should command me, though I was never good at Secrets.

Enter Cleomena, Semiris.

Cleo. Let the Coach wait at the Entrance of the Wood: I find I am a perfect Woman now, And have my Fears, and fits of Cowardice.

Sem. Madam, will you not see the Combat then?

Cleo. I dare not, something here assures me Clemanthis will be conquer’d.

Pim. Ha! the Princess here? on my Conscience there was never Mischief but a Woman was at one end o’nt.

Sem. How now, Pimante, why do you look so scurvily?

Pim. Ah, Madam, such a Sight so dismal and bloody!

Cleo. What says he?

Pim. Clemanthis, Madam—

Cleo. Clemanthis! Oh, what of him? Why, my prophetick Heart, dost thou betray me?

Sem. For Heaven’s sake, Madam, reassume your Courage.

Cleo. Yes—I will hear—the fatal Story—out.

Pim. Truth is, Madam, to retire from the Noise and Fury of the Battle, I came into this Wood; and when I thought all Danger past, I heard even here the Noise of Swords and Fighting; which endeavouring to avoid, I fell almost into the Danger of them.

Sem. Leave out the History of your own Fears, and come to the Business.

Pim. But ah, Madam, unseen I saw: who did I see—
Ah, who should I see but Clemanthis, Madam,
Fixt with his Back against yon Cypress-tree,
Defending himself against a dozen Murderers.
I was, alas, too weak to take the weaker side,
And therefore came not forth to his Assistance.
Prince Ismenes would have taken his Part, but came too late too;
But e’er he died we begg’d to know his Murderers,
And he could answer nothing but—Thersander.

Cleo. Remove me to the Body of my Love—

[They lead her to Amin. who lies wounded; she gazes on him a while, his Face being all bloody.

—I will not now deplore as Women use,
But call up all my Vengeance to my Aid.
Expect not so much Imbecillity—
From her whose Love nor Courage was made known
Sufficiently to thee. Oh, my Clemanthis!
I wou’d not now survive thee,
Were it not weak and cowardly to die,
And leave thee unreveng’d.
—Be calm, my Eyes, and let my Soul supply ye;
A silent broken Heart must be his Sacrifice:
Ev’ry indifferent Sorrow claims our Tears,
Mine do require Blood, and ‘tis with that
These must be washt away—
[Rises, wipes her Eyes.
Whatever I design to execute,
Pimante, and Semiris, I conjure ye,
Go not about to hinder, but be silent,
Or I will send my Dagger to this Heart.
Remove this Body further into the Wood,
And strip it of these glittering Ornaments,
And let me personate this dear dead Prince.
Obey, and dress me strait without reply.
There is not far from hence a Druid’s Cell,
A Man for Piety and Knowledge famous:
Thither convey the breathless sacred Corps,
Laid gently in my Chariot,
There to be kept conceal’d till further Orders.

Sem. Ah, Madam, what is’t you intend to do?

Cleo. What shou’d I do but die—ah! do not weep, But haste to do as I command ye: Haste, haste, the Time and my Revenge require it.

Sem. For Heaven’s sake, Madam, for your royal self, Do not pursue this cruel fatal Enterprize; Pity the Queen, your Servants, and all Mankind.

Cleo. Away, thou feeble thing, that never knew’st the
real Joys of Love,
Or ever heard of any Grief like mine;
If thou wou’dst give me Proofs of thy Esteem,
Forget all Words, all Language, but Revenge.
Let me not see so much of Woman in thee
To shed one Tear, but dress thy Eyes with fierceness,
And send me forth to meet my Love, as gay,
As if intended for my nuptial Day.
That Soul that sighs in pity of my Fate,
Shall meet returns of my extremes! Hate:
Pity with my Revenge must find no room;
I’ll bury all but Rage within thy Tomb.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. A Flat Wood.

Enter Cleomena drest in Clemanthis’s Clothes, Semiris bearing the Cap and Feather, Pimante the Sword.

Cleo. Come, my Semiris, you must assist a little, And you, Pimante, buckle on my Sword.

Pim. I never parted with a Sword so unwillingly in my Life.

Cleo. So—How dost thou like me now? Might I not pass, thus habited, for Clemanthis?

Pim. Yes, Madam, till you come to the fighting part.

Cleo. Now go, and do as I have ordered you.

Sem. Ah, Madam, though I must not wait on you to fight, I will in Death, ‘tis my first Act, and last of Disobedience. [Weeps.

Cleo. Do not disturb me with thy Grief, Semiris:
Go leave me to my self, and Thoughts of Vengeance:
And thou, base Traitor-Prince, shalt buy thy Life
At such a Rate shall ruin thee for ever;
And if I fall—as I believe I shall—
The very Shame to know I am a Woman,
Shall make thee curse thy Fortune and thy Arms,
If thou hast any Sense of Manhood left,
After the barbarous Murder thou hast done:
But if my better Fortune guide my Arm,
This Arm (whom Love direct) to meet thy Heart,
Then I shall die with real Satisfaction.
The time draws on when I should try my Fate;
Assist me, mighty Love, in my Design,
That I may prove no Passion equals mine.

Sem. Madam, consider whom you must encounter.

Cleo. Consider thou who’s dead, the brave Clemanthis! [Weeps. Oh, ‘tis a Shame to weep, being thus attir’d; Let me once more survey my self— And yet I need not borrow Resolution: Clemanthis, thou art murder’d, that’s the Word, ’.is that creates me Man, and valiant too, And all incensed Love can prompt me to. Hark—hark—the joyful Summons to my Death. [Trumpets sound. Go, leave me to approach it solemnly— Come, my dear Sword, from thee I must expect That Service which my Arm may fail to affect; And if thou ever did’st thy Master love, Be sure each Stroke thou mak’st may mortal prove.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE II. Between the two Camps.

After a Noise of Trumpets at some distance and fighting, the Scene draws, and discovers Cleomena and Thersander fighting: Lysander. On one side stands the King of Scythia with his Party: on the other, the Queen of Dacia, Hon. Artabazes, and her Party: Vallentio.

Ther. What mak’st thou to fight as if indeed thou wert Clemanthis? But since thou art not him thou represent’st, Whoe’er thou be’st, ‘twas indiscreetly done, To draw me from an order might have sav’d thee; —Whois’t that dares assume _Clemanthis’. shape? [They fight.

Cleo. Unworthy Scythian, whose reported Valour Unjustly was admir’d, cou’dst thou believe the covert of the Wood [Cleo. falls, he stoops to look on her. Cou’d hide thy Treason—Treason which thou durst own too? [A cry of Joy on the Scythian’s side.

Ther. Ah! Cleomena, is it you? What have I done that could so far transport you? _Clemanthis’. Boldness has incur’d your Hate, But he has been severely punisht for’t; And here in lieu of that unhappy Stranger, Receive Thersander with his equal Passions, But not his equal Crimes.

Cleo. Oh, Villain, since thou’st punish’d Clemanthis, Punish the unhappy Cleomena too, And take her Life who came to have taken thine.

Qu. ‘Tis not Clemanthis, but my Cleomena— With whom Thersander fights—ah, cruel Child; [They carry her off.

Ther. Oh, whither, whither do you bear my Goddess?
Return, and here resign your sacred Load,
That whilst’t has Life it may behold the Sacrifice
That I will make of this wild wretched Man
That has so much offended—Disobey’d!
—My Arms, my Arms, Lysander, mount me strait,
And let me force the disobedient Troops;
Those Coward-Slaves that could behold her bleed,
And not revenge her on the Murderer:
Quickly my Arms, kill, burn, and scatter all;
Whilst ‘midst the Ruins of the World I fall.

[The Scythian Guards carry him off by force.
Enter Ismenes with his Sword. They all descend.

Ism. Still thus defeated and outstript by Fate,
Resolv’d betimes, but sallied out too late;
Fortune and Love are equally unkind:
—Who can resist those mighty Powers combin’d?

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. A Prison.

Enter Orsames, Geron.

Ger. May I not know what ‘tis afflicts you so? You were not wont to hide your Soul from me.

Ors. Nor wou’d I now, knew I but how to tell thee;
Oh, Geron, thou hast hitherto so frighted me
With thoughts of Death, by Stories which thou tell’st
Of future Punishment i’th’ other World,
That now I find thou’st brought me to endure
Those Ills from Heaven thou say’st our Sins procure.
There’s not a little God of all the Number
That does not exercise his Arts on me,
And practise Power, which by my suffering
He grows more mighty in—I’ll not endure it.

Ger. Why not, as well as I?

Ors. Thou may’st do what thou wilt; but there’s a Difference
(As vast as ‘twixt the Sun and lesser Lights)
Between thy Soul and mine;
Thou canst contented sit whole Days together,
And entertain thy Lute, that dull Companion,
Till duller Sleep does silence it and thee:
But I, whose active Soul despise that drousy God,
Can ever dare him in his height of Power:
Then when he ties thee to thy lazy Couch,
Where thou’rt so far from Sense, thou’st lost thy Soul;
Even then, my Geron, my divertive Fancy
Possesses me, beyond thy waking Thought—
But, Geron, all was but an airy Dream;
I wak’d, and found my self a thing like thee.

Ger. What was your Dream?

Ors. Why, I will try to tell it thee
—Methought I saw the Firmament divide,
And all the Clouds, like Curtains, draw aside;
The Sun in all his Glories, ne’er put on
So bright a Ray, nor Heaven with more Lustre shon!
The Face of Heaven too bright for mortal Eye
Appear’d, and none durst gaze upon’t but I;
In Jove’s illustrious Throne I only sat,
Whilst all the lesser Gods did round me wait;
My Habit, such as cannot be exprest;
Iris in all her various Colours drest,
The Morning-Sun, nor Sun-declining Sky,
Was half so beautiful, so gay, as I.
The brightest Stars in all Heaven’s Canopy
Were chosen out to make a Crown for me;
With which methought they glorify’d my Brow,
And in my Hand they plac’d the Thunder too;
The World was mine, and thousands such as thou,
Still as I moved, low to the Earth did bow;
Like thronging Curls upon the wanton Sea,
They strove, and were as numerous as they:
Thither I soon descended in a Cloud;
But in the midst of the adoring Croud,
Almighty Woman at my Feet did bow,
Adorn’d with Beauties more than Heaven can show:
But one among the rest (for there were store)
Whilst all did me, I did that one adore;
She did unking me, and her wondrous Eyes
Did all my Power and Thunder too despise;
Her Smiles could calm me, and her Looks were Law;
And when she frown’d, she kept my Soul in awe.
Oh, Geron, while I strive to tell the rest,
I feel so strange a Passion in my Breast,
That though I only do relate a Dream,
My Torments here would make it real seem.

Ger. ‘Tis lucky that he takes it for a Dream. [Aside. —Pray do not form Ideas in your Fancy, And suffer them to discompose your Thoughts.

Ors. In spite of your Philosophy, they make A strange Impression on me.

Ger. That’s perfect Madness, Sir.

Ors. Geron, I will no longer be impos’d upon,
But follow all the Dictates of my Reason.
—Come tell me, for thou hast not done so yet,
How Nature made us; by what strange Devices.
Tell me where ‘twas you lighted on me first;
And how I came into thy dull Possession?
Thou say’st we are not born immortal,
And I remember thou wert still as now,
When I could hardly call upon thy Name,
But as thou wouldst instruct my lisping Tongue;
And when I ask’d thee who instructed thee,
Thoud’st sigh, and say a Man out-worn by Age,
And now laid in the Earth—but tell me, Geron,
When time has wasted thee, for thou’rt decaying,
Where shall I find some new-made Work of Nature,
To teach those Precepts to, I’ve learnt of thee?
—Why art thou silent now?

Ger. You ought not, Sir, to pry into the hidden Secrets of the Gods.

Ors. Come, tell not me of Secrets, nor of Gods— What is’t thou studiest for, more new Devices? Out with ‘em—this Sulleness betrays thee; And I have been too long impos’d upon. I find my self enlightened on a sudden, And ev’ry thing I see instructs my Reason; ’. has been enslav’d by thee—come, out without it.

Ger. I dare not, Sir.

Ors. Who is’t thou fear’st?

Ger. The Anger of the Gods, Who will not have their high Decrees reveal’d, Till they themselves unfold ‘em in their Oracles.

Ors. What are those Oracles?

Ger. Heavenly Voices, Sir, that expound what’s writ In the Eternal Book of Destiny.

Ors. I’ll know what’s writ in that eternal Book, Or let thee know what it contains of thee.

Ger. What will you do?

Ors. Throw thee into the Sea; by Jupiter, I will. [Offers to take him up.

Ger. Stay, Orsames— ’.is true, I have Commands from Cleomena, But yet the Time is hardly ripe for the Design. [Aside.

Ors. Begin your Story—or, by Heaven—

Ger. I shall—When you consider who I am,
With how much Care and Toil I’ve brought you up;
How I have made my aged Arms your Cradle,
And in my Bosom lull’d you to your rest;
How when you wept, my Tears kept time with yours,
And how your Smiles would dry again those Showers;
You will believe ‘tis my Concern for you,
And not your Threats, makes me declare a Truth.

Ors. Forward, my dearest Geron,
Whilst I as silent as a healthy Sleep,
As growth of Flowers, or motion of the Air,
Attend each long’d-for Syllable thou breath’st.

Ger. Be pleas’d to walk into the Garden, Sir, And there I’ll tell you Wonders to ensue; But first, great Sir, your Pardon for the past. [Kneels.

Ors. I give it thee—Gods, this is fine indeed! Thy Language and thy Mien are altered. Oh, how my Soul’s inlarg’d already! go, lead the way.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The Scythian Tents.

Enter Thersander, Lysander.

Ther. Leave me, I will be calm,
[Exit Lysander.
For this same change of Cleomena’s Habit
Has but increas’d my Love—and all my Softness—
’.was in that Habit that I left Amintas.
Gods! has he betray’d me then?
No, I must not have so mean a Thought of him;
’.is certain that she knows I am Thersander—
But if the bold Clemanthis be Thersander,
Son to the Enemy of Cleomena;
Yet still ‘tis that Clemanthis that ador’d her,
And whom she once made happy with her Love.
But I have wounded her, and here remain [Draws his Sword.
The Marks of my Dishonour in her Blood.
Oh cruel Instrument of my shameful Crime!
Must the first Service thou hast render’d me
Prove to my Soul so fatal? That Sword I left Amintas,
Wou’d have deny’d Obedience to this Hand,
This sacrilegious Hand drew it against her.

Enter King.

King. How now, Thersander, what, still melancholy?
Upon the first Appearance of your Sadness,
I thought’t had been for fighting with a Woman;
But now I fear that could not be the Cause,
Unless ‘twere fortify’d by stronger Passions—
’.is not impossible, but when you saw
The Eyes of Cleomena in the Combat
They might disarm your Rage, and teach you Love.
If this be all, I’ll offer Peace in such a time
As they’re not able to make War against us,
And with it Propositions of a Marriage.

Ther. Happy Mistake! Great Sir,
I’ll not deny the Eyes of Cleomena
Have given me Wounds which nothing else can cure;
And in that Moment when I would have kill’d her,
They staid my guilty Hand, and overcame
The shameful Conqueror—
I’ll say no more, nor give Laws to your Bounty;
But if your Majesty approve my Flame,
I shall receive her as the greatest Blessing
Heaven can bestow upon me.

King. I’m glad to find my Son of my Opinion; For I have already propos’d it to ‘em, Which I believe they will with Joy embrace.

Ther. All but the lovely Princess, whose Aversion Is still so great against our Family, That I despair she ever will be drawn to’t.

King. They’ll hardly rally up their routed Forces To make fresh War upon us; they’re at our Mercy now, And as an Honour will embrace the Alliance.

Ther. Pray Heaven they may.

King. If they refuse I will recall my Mercy, And make them dearly buy their Scorn; Come, we expect our Herald from their Tents.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. Cleomena’s Apartments.

Enter Queen, Cleomena in a Night-Gown, Semiris. A Table with Pen and Ink.

Cleo. Madam, I confess my self unworthy of your Tenderness.

Qu. Ah, Cleomena! you value my Repose at too cheap a Rate, When you expose a Life so dear to me To so much Danger, as to fight Thersander.

Cleo. I am not the first Person of my Sex
Has drawn a Sword upon an Enemy;
Do you not say he is my Father’s Murderer?
And does he not deprive me of that Crown,
You say the Gods have destin’d me to wear?

Qu. ‘Tis true, he’s Son to him that kill’d thy Father; But bating that, he has committed nothing But what wou’d rather cause esteem than hate.

Cleo. Pardon me, Madam, if I am forc’d to say, My Sentiments cannot correspond with yours.

Qu. What think you of a Husband in this Prince?

Cleo. How, Madam, marry Thersander!

Qu. The King has generously offered it; My Council do approve it, and the Army Cannot contain their Joy for the blest News.

Cleo. Gods! let the Council and the Army perish,
E’er I lose one single Moment of my Satisfaction;
Is this the Hate which with my Milk you made me suck
For all that Race? is this th’ Effect of my fierce Education?

Qu. All things must be preferr’d to th’ Publick Good, When join’d with my Commands.

Cleo. What you command, I dare not disobey: But, Madam, I beseech you do not claim That cruel Duty here.

Qu. You’ll find it fit to change that peevish Humour, And I will leave you to consider of it. [Exit.

Cleo. Gods! marry me, marry me to Thersander! No, not whilst this—remains in my Possession; [Pulls out a dagger. —I must confess it is a generous Offer; How came it in their Souls?

Sem. Madam, perhaps Love has inspir’d it.

Cleo. Hah, Love—that Miracle may be;
When I reflect upon the Prince’s words,
When he had vanquish’d me—I do not doubt it;
Then he confess’d he had a Passion for me;
I wonder at the sudden Birth of it—

Sem. Madam, your Eyes make Captives at first sight.

Cleo. Oh my dear Eyes, how shall I love ye now,
For wounding more than my dull Sword could do?
’.was Anger and Revenge that gave ye Charms,
Only to help the weakness of my Arms;
And when my Woman’s Courage feeble grew,
My Heart did kindly send its Aids to you.
And thou, Thersander, surely canst not blame
My Cruelty, who do allow thy Flame:
Love on, love on; and if thou dost despise
All other ways, I’ll kill thee with my Eyes.

She sits down, and writes. Enter a Page.

Page. Madam, there is without an Officer Who bad me tell your Highness that he waits.

Cleo. Admit him—and, Page, give you this Letter to the Queen.

Sem. Madam, it is Vallentio whom you sent for.

Enter Vallentio.

Cleo. Vallentio, I believe thee brave and honest.

Val. Madam, the last I dare affirm.

Cleo. Tell me, Vallentio, didst thou ever love?

Val. Madam, your Interest, my Arms, and a brave Enemy.

Cleo. But didst thou never feel a softer Passion?

Val. Madam, I own, though with a Blush I do so,
I’ve felt the Power of two fair Eyes;
And I have Wounds that yet would bleed afresh,
Should but the cruel Murderess appear.

Cleo. Then thou art fit to hear a Secret from me; —But first, Vallentio tell me who I am.

Val. My Princess, Madam, and my General;
And one, who from your Power of Beauty holds
No less Dominion o’er th’ adoring World,
Than from the Greatness you were born to.

Cleo. And you’re contented I should be your Queen?

Val. Madam, I am—Pimante has been prating. [Aside.

Cleo. The Army too are of your mind.

Val. I cannot answer for the Army, Madam.

Cleo. But—what think you of Orsames?

Val. Madam, I think he merits to be King In any other World but where you reign.

Cleo. And what if I would have him King of this?

Val. Why then he shall be King, if you would have it so.

Cleo. Yes, I would have it, by my self I would;
This is the time to let the Monarch know
The Glories he was born to;
Nor can I die in Peace till he be crown’d. [Aside.
I’ll have this Nation happy in a Prince,
A Prince they long in silence have bemoan’d,
Which every slight occasion breaks out loud,
And soon will raise them up to a Rebellion,
The common People’s God on Holy-days.
—And this, Vallentio, I have often observ’d;
And ‘tis an Act too humble for my Soul,
To court my self into security.

Sem. Madam, the Gods do disapprove his Reign, Which they not only say shall be but short, But Bloody and Tyrannick.

Cleo. I will expound that Oracle,
Which Priests unridling make more intricate:
They said that he should reign, and so he did,
Which lasted not above a pair of Hours.
But I my self will be his Oracle now,
And speak his kinder Fate,
And I will have no other Priest but thee, [To Vallentio.
Who shall unfold the Mystery in plain terms.

Val. Madam, the City and the Army are, by this Defeat, Enough inclin’d to hear that Reason.

Cleo. Geron already has Instructions what to do, And you need none, wanting no Resolution.

Val. If I miscarry, Madam, I’ll be condemn’d, Never to look my Foe i’th’ Face again.

Cleo. Haste, and be prosperous—

[Exit. Val.

Semiris, are those Garments ready I spoke for?

Sem. Madam, they’re here—but now what will you do?

Cleo. Now, I will die—and now thou know’st my Will.

Sem. Ah, Madam, ‘tis too much you let me know, Denying me t’ attend you where you go, With such a Guide I cannot err.

Cleo. Alone I’ll go, the Journey is not far
In passing; though I miss the aids of Day,
Yet my Clemanthis lights me on my way.
Why dost thou weep? indeed thou art unkind.

Sem. I weep because you’d leave me here behind;
Doubting my Love, I beg you wou’d permit
That I might give you the last proof of it.
I in your last adventure was too slow,
And will not be deny’d my Duty now.

Cleo. Thou show’st a Soul so generous and free,
That I’m contented thou shou’dst follow me;
Come, dry thy Eyes, such helps we do not need;
To ease our Griefs, we must not weep but bleed.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI. A Street.

Enter Vallentio passing over the Stage, is met by a Rabble of Citizens.

1 Cit. Well, Colonel, have you delivered our Grievances to the Queen?

Val. Yes, I have.

1 Cit. Well, and what Success? shall we have a King?

Val. And why a King? why should you be thus earnest for a King? what good will a King do you? he’s but a single Man, cannot redeem the lost Victory, cannot raise up your dead Members, no, nor levy new ones.

1 Cit. That’s all one, Colonel, we will have a King: for look ye, Colonel, we have thought of a King, and therefore we will have one. Hah, Neighbours! a substantial Reason.

All. Ay, ay, a King, a King.

Val. I like your Resolution, but not your Reason; and must have a better than that.

1 Cit. ‘Sha, Sir, we can give you many, though that’s sufficient; as look you, Sir, ‘tis first a new thing to have a King—a thing—a thing—we have not been acquainted with in our Age: besides, we have lost the Victory, and we are very angry with some body, and must vent it somewhere. You know, Colonel, we have busy Heads, working Brains, which must be executed; therefore, what say you, are we to have leave to shut up Shop, and go to work with long Staff and Bilbo, or are we to be very mutinous, and do’t in spite of you?

Val. You shall not need; go, shut up your Shops, gather your Fellow-mutineers together, and meet me at the Citadel; but be sure you’re well arm’d, lest the Queen’s Guards prevent you.

1 Cit. I warrant you for honest true Hearts enough at any mischief, though not to go against the Scythians; for, Colonel, we love Civil Wars, Colonel, Civil Wars.

Val. Make haste, and then I’ll shew you my Orders for the King’s Deliverance.

Cit. Oh, incomparable Colonel! we will raise thy Statue in Brass in the Market-place, and worship it when we have done—but harkye, Colonel, are we to give no Quarter?

Val. None to those that oppose you.

All. No, no, none, none.

Cit. Oh, how this will please ye all, my Mates—

[Citizens goes out. Enter Pimante.

Pim. Oh, Colonel, the Princess, Colonel.

Val. Well, Sir.

Pim. She’s fled away, and none knows whither.

Val. I left her in her Tent just now.

Pim. Ay, ay, Colonel, that’s all one, she’s gone just as she shou’d have been married too—there’s the Devil on’t! Oh, the Days we shou’d have seen! the dancing, loving Days!

Val. Gone alone?

Pim. No, no, that dissembling thing Semiris is with her; she only left a Letter for the Queen, which she has sent to the Prince of Scythia. Oh, adieu, adieu, to Love and Musick. [Goes out crying.

Val. This is strange—if she be gone, ‘tis time the King were free—I’ll haste to meet the Rabble, that it may not look like an act of my own. [Exit.

SCENE VII. Thersander’s Tent.

He enters with a Letter in his Hand open—with Attendants.

Ther. Be gone, I’ll read the Letter o’er again, [Exeunt Attendants. And here impress thy Cruelty, and see what that will do To set me free. Ther. reads the Letter— Finding it impossible to obey your unkind Commands, I am fled, and do resolve never to marry that Barbarian, whose Crimes are only known to me; no, nor any other that cannot bring me his Head; whereto sollicite Artabazes, and Ismenes, if they will obey_. Cleomena.

If I consult my Reason and my Courage,
They say I should not love this cruel Maid.
But oh, my Reason, you’re weak to counsel;
I’ll think of nothing else but dying for her,
Since ‘tis my Life she asks, and here demands it.
But ‘tis in vain to arm my happy Rivals,
For I my self can more devoutly serve you.
’.is I will pierce this unaccepted Heart,
Whose Flames are found so criminal—

Enter Lysander.

Lys. Sir, there’s without a Youth that desires admittance.

Ther. From whom comes he?

Lys. He would not tell me that, but has a Letter, Which he’ll deliver only to your Highness.

Ther. Bring him in, it may be from Amintas.

Enter Cleomena drest like a Country-Shepherd, comes bowing to him, gives him a Note.

Ther. reads to himself— Guard thee well, Thersander; for thou shalt die by the Hand that brings thee this.

[She stabs him; he falls into Lysander’s Arms.

Cleo. Here’s to thee, dear Clemanthis—

Lys. Help, Treason, help—

Ther. Ah, lovely Youth, who taught thee so much cruelty? And why that Language with that angry Blow?

Cleo. Behold this Face, and then inform thy self.
[Discovers her self.

Ther. ‘Tis Cleomena! oh ye Gods, I thank ye!
It is her Hand that wounds me,
And I’ll receive my Death with perfect Joy,
If I may be permitted but to kiss
That blessed Hand that sent it.

Enter King and Guards.

King. Thersander murder’d! oh, inhumane Deed! Drag the Traitor to a Dungeon, till we have Invented unheard of Tortures to destroy him by— [The Guards seize Cleo. and Sem. who was just entring. My Wounds are deep as thine, my dear Thersander; Oh, fatal Day, wherein one fatal Stroke. Has laid the Hopes of Scythia in his Tomb!

The Guards go to carry Cleo. and Sem.
Ther. calls ‘em back.

Ther. Oh, stay, and do not bear so rudely off
Treasures you cannot value.
—Sir,—do not treat her as my Murderer,
But as my Sovereign Deity—
Instead of Fetters, give her Crowns and Scepters;
And let her be conducted into Dacia,
With all the Triumphs of a Conqueror.
For me, no other Glory I desire,
Than at her Feet thus willingly to expire.

[Goes to throw himself at her Feet, they prevent it and go off.

ACT V.

SCENE I.

A Council-Table: The King of Scythia seated on a Throne, Officers, Attendants, Guards.

King. Bring the fair Prisoner forth, and let’s examine What Reasons could inspire her with this Cruelty; —How beautiful she is! [Gazes on her.

Enter Cleomena in Fetters, Lysander, with Guards.

Cleo. Thy Silence seems to license me to speak,
And tell thee, King, that now our Faults are equal;
My Father thou hast kill’d, and I thy Son;
This will suffice to tell thee who I am.
—Now take my Life, since I have taken his,
And thou shalt see I neither will implore
Thy needless Clemency by any Word or Sign:
But if my Birth or Sex can merit ought,
Suffer me not to languish any longer
Under these shameful Irons.
[With scorn.

King. Cruel as Fair, ‘tis with too much injustice
Thou say’st our Crimes are equal:
For thou hast kill’d a Prince that did adore thee;
And I depriv’d thy Father of his Life,
When he assaulted mine in open Field,
And so, as cannot leave a stain on thee,
Or give thee Cause to say I’ve done thee wrong,
But if I had, wherefore (oh, cruel Maid)
Didst thou not spare that Heart that dy’d for thee,
And bend thy Rage against thy Father’s Foe?
But thou well know’st, in killing of Tkersander,
The Father’s Life would quickly follow after.

Cleo. I will not seek excuses for my actions,
But I protest to thee before the Gods,
It was not to revenge my self on thee
I kill’d thy Son;
But what he suffered was for his own Sin,
For he has banish’d from me all on Earth
That could compleat my Happiness—
[Weeps.
—And now dispose my Destiny as you please,
Only remember that I am a Woman.

King. What thou hast said will find but little credit:
—But yet if Thersander lives,
And if it please the Gods to spare that Life,
I shall have Generosity enough
To set thee free in favour of thy Sex,
And my Thersander’s Love.

Cleo. Not dead? Why should the Gods protect him?

King. Her Soul’s possest with some despair.
Madam, I doubt you need not fear his Life,
He will obey, and die as you desire— [Weeps.
But not with Satisfaction, till he see you
Conducted into Dacia.
I should not of my self have been so generous,
T’ have given you freedom with the Life of him
Who did deserve a kinder Destiny;
But ‘tis his Will—and possible his last.
Therefore you’re free, and may depart this Camp
Whene’er you please; only this favour grant,
(If an unhappy King may hope for any)
You’ll suffer him to take his last farewel.

Cleo. Immortal Gods! how can it be? a Man
Whose Wickedness arm’d me against his Life,
Shou’d shew such Virtue in the rest of’s Actions.
—Sir, I will see the Prince,
Not as the Price of what you offer’d me,
But that he may confess he did deserve
A Death less glorious than I have given him:
And I shall take it well if he will own
That which may justify my Offence to you.

King. Madam, I thank you—
Dismiss her Fetters, and if she please,
Let her have Garments suitable to her Sex,
Only the Guards attend her at a distance.

[Go out severally.

SCENE II. The Grove.

Enter Amintas, drest like a Shepherd, Urania like a Shepherdess, the Druid, Lyces, and other dancing Swains, &c.

Druid. Sir, I’m afraid you have made too bold a venture; And though your Wounds were more numerous than dangerous, I am not willing you should trust ‘em to the Air.

Amin. Father, your Skill has wrought a perfect Cure, For which, the Life you sav’d you shall command.

Ura. Me too h’ has freed of all my jealous Fears,
By this eternal Knot ‘twixt thee and me
Which he has tied, and Fate can ne’er undo.
—Father—to you I owe _Amintas’. Liberty—
To you his Life; and now for all my Joys,
Which if my future Service can repay,
Command with Freedom her you have preserv’d.

Amin. Come, dear Urania, let’s hasten to the Camp; For I impatient grow to see my Prince; Heaven knows what my Mishap may have procur’d him.

Ura. How loth I am to leave these pretty Shades,
The Gods and Nature have design’d for Love:
Oh, my Amintas, wou’d I were what I seem,
And thou some humble Villager hard by,
That knew no other pleasure than to love,
To feed thy little Herd, to tune a Pipe,
To which the Nymphs should listen all the Day;
We’d taste the Waters of these Crystal Springs,
With more delight than all delicious Wines;
And being weary, on a Bed of Moss,
Having no other Canopy but Trees,
We’d lay us down, and tell a thousand Stories.

Amin. For ever so I’d be content to dwell,
I wou’d put off all frightful Marks of War,
And wou’d appear as soft and calm to thee,
As are thy Eyes when silently they wound.
An Army I wou’d quit to lead thy Flock,
And more esteem a Chaplet wreath’d by thee,
Than the victorious Laurel.
—But come, Love makes us idle.

Druid. My Prayers ever go along with you,
And your fair Bride, Urania.—I cou’d wish
My Youth and Vigour were as heretofore,
When only Courts and Camps cou’d make me happy;
And then I wou’d not bid farewel so soon
To so much Virtue as I’ve found in you.

Amin. I humbly thank you, Father, for a Goodness
That shames my poor Returns.
Come, pretty Lyces, and thou, honest Damon,
With all the rest of our kind Train;
Let’s hasten to the Camp, during this Truce,
Your little rustick Sports will find a welcome.

Ura. There are no Women in the Camp, my Lord.

Amin. No matter, thou canst not hate a Soldier,
Since I am one; and you must be obedient,
And learn to bear my Bow and Arrows now,
It is the Duty of a Scythian’s Wife.

Ura. She that can claim Amintas by such Ties, May find a Safety wheresoe’er she flies.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. A Prison.

Enter Orsames joyful, and Geron.

Ors. Am I indeed a King?
And is there such a thing as fair Olympia?
Hadst thou not been the first had told me this,
By Heaven, thou’dst dy’d for thus concealing it;
Not all the Obligations of my Youth
Should have preserv’d thee.

Ger. Till now I wanted Opportunity;
For had you known your Quality before,
You wou’d have grown impatient of the Crown,
And by that Haste have overthrown your Interest.

Ors. And canst thou now provide against my Ignorance?

Ger. Sir, we have gain’d the Army on our side.

Ors. What’s that?

Ger. Those Numbers that I told you should adore you.

Ors. When shall I see them, Geron?

Ger. E’er long, Sir: should your Deliverance
Be wrought by any other Means than theirs,
It were to snatch a Glory from their Hands,
Which they design their only Recompence.

Ors. Oh, how I am transported with the Joy! But, Geron, art thou sure we do not dream?

Ger. Then Life it self’s a Dream— Hark, I hear a noise— [Noise.

Within] Kill the Dog—down with him!

Ors. Oh, how I’m ravisht with this unknown Noise!

Within.] Break down the Prison-Walls and Gates, and force your Passage—

Enter Vallentio, followed by Gorel and a Rabble of
Citizens and Officers, tearing in the Keeper all bloody.

Val. No killing to day, my Fellow-Soldiers, if you can help it; we will not stain our Triumphs in Blood— [They all stand and gaze. Ors. gazes on them. Ye Gods, instruct me where to bow my Knee— But this alone must be the Deity—

[Kneels, Ors. lets him kneel, and gazes on him.

1 Cit. Is that the King, Neighbour, in such mean Clothes?

Gorel. Yes, Goodman Fool, why should the Colonel kneel else?

2 Cit. Oh, pray, Neighbour, let me see a little, I never saw a King in all the days of my Life. Lord, Lord! Is that he the Colonel kneels to?

Gorel. What Questions this ignorant Fellow asks!

3 Cit. Good lack-a-day, ‘tis as a Man may say—’tis just such another Body as one of us, only he looks a little more terrably.

Ger. Sir, why do you let him kneel?

Ors. Rise, and let me look upon thee.

Val. Great Sir, we come to offer you a Crown,
That long has waited for this great Support;
It ought to have been presented in a more glorious order,
But Time and your Affairs permit not that.
A thousand Dangers wait upon Delay;
But though the World be yours, it is not safe
Depending on a fickle Multitude,
Whom Interest, and not Reason renders just.

Ors. Thou art a wondrous Man.

1 Cit. Good Gorel, stand back, and let me see a little; my Wife loves Newalties abominationly, ami I must tell her something about the King.

Gorel. What a Pox have we to do with your Wife? stand back.

Val. Now deign, great Sir, to arm your Hand with this—
[Gtves Ors. a Sword, he gazes on it.
Nay, view it well, for though it be but homely,
It carries that about it can make the Wearer proud;
—An Edge—pray feel it, Sir,—’t has dealt
Many a mortal Wound—
See how it dares the Sun for Brightness, Sir!
Or if there be a Stain, it is an Ornament,
Dy’d in the Blood of those that were your Enemies:
It never made a Blow or Thrust in vain.
—How do you like it, Sir?

Ors. So well, I know not whether this or thee
Be most agreeable to me;
You need not teach me how I am to use it,
That I will leave for those that dare offend me.
Look, Geron, is it not a glorious Object?
There’s nothing but my bright Olympia’s Eyes
That can out-glitter this.

1 Cit. Hah, Simon, did he not talk bravely?

Val. Come, Sir, ‘tis time you left this Dungeon for a Throne; For now’s the time to make the World your own. All shouting—Vive le Roy, Vive le Roy.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. A Tent.

Enter Cleomena and Semiris, drest as Women again.

Sem. Dear Madam, I cou’d wish you’d sleep awhile.

Cleo. That Peace I have not been acquainted with Since my _Clemanthis’. Death; Yet now methinks my Heart’s more calm and still, And I perhaps may thus expire in silence— Prithee, Semiris, take thy Lute and sing to’t, Whilst I will try to sleep. [Lies down on a Couch, Sem. plays and sings.

SONG, made by J. Wright Esq:

_Fair Nymph, remember all your Scorn
Will be by Time repaid;
Those Glories which that Face adorn,
And flourish as the rising Morn,
Must one day set and fade.
Then all your cold Disdain for me
Will but increase Deformity,
When still the kind will lovely be.
Compassion is of lasting Praise;
For that’s the Beauty ne’er decays.

Fair Nymph, avoid those Storms of Fate
Are to the Cruel due;
The Powers above, though ne’er so late.
Can be, when they revenge your Hate,
As pitiless as you.
Know, charming Maid, the Powers divine
Did never such soft Eyes design
To wound a Heart so true as mine:
That God who my dear Flame infus’d,
Will never see it thus abus’d_.

Return, my dear Clemanthis, oh, return,
[Cleo. rises as in a Dream.
And see ‘tis not into thy lovely Bosom
That I have sent my Vengeance.

Sem. What mean you, Madam?

Cleo. But thou, poor Ghost— Instead of hasting me to my Revenge, Endeavour’st to touch me with Compassion.

Sem. Madam, who is’t you follow thus and speak to?

Cleo. Thersander, why do’st rob me of that Face? Is’t to disarm me of my Indignation?

Sem. Oh, Madam, what do you do?

Cleo. Ha! dost thou see nothing?

Sem. Not any thing.

Cleo. Yonder’s the Scythian with _Clemanthis’. Face, Or else Clemanthis with Thersander’s Wound.

Sem. Compose your Thoughts, dear Madam, ‘twas a Dream, An idle Dream, born from a troubled Fancy. —How was it, Madam?

Cleo. Methought I saw Clemanthis,
As when he was most charming to my Soul,
But pale and languishing, having a Wound
Like that I gave his Murderer
To which with one of’s Hands he seem’d to point;
The other stretching out with passionate Actions,
And gazing on me,—thus methought he spoke:
—See how you recompense my faithful Sufferings,
—See the performance of your Promises;
Look on this Wound which you have given my Heart,
That Heart that still ador’d you:
And yet you’re not content with all these Cruelties,
Though even in your Anger and my Death,
I still continue faithful and submissive.
—Thus spoke the lovely Phantom.

Enter Pimante.

Pim. Madam, there waits without a Servant to the Prince.

Cleo. He may come in.

Enter Lysander.

Lys. Madam, my dying Prince begs you may know
How willingly he does obey your Will,
And dying still implores you wou’d believe
He’s guilty of no fault but having lov’d you,
For which presumption he deserves to die;
—But ‘tis not by your Dagger, but your Eyes:
That was too weak to exercise your Will,
Your Cruelty had power alone to kill;
And now from you one visit he implores,
And after that he’ll trouble you no more. [Weeps.

Cleo. That I will grant to satisfy the King.

Lys. When he is dead—
He’ll send the Spirit of Clemanthis to you,
Who shall upbraid you with your Cruelty,
And let you see, in wounding of Thersander,
You’ve found the readiest way to kill Clemanthis.

Cleo. What means he by these Words?

Lys. He humbly begs you’ll pardon the rough treatment
You’ve had among the Scythians,
Whose Crown, he says, Clemanthis promis’d you,
And he intreats you would accept it from him.

Cleo. To send the Spirit of Clemanthis to me— How this agrees with my sad Dream! How did thy Master know— Clemanthis promis’d me the Crown of Scythia?— [Advances towards Lys. and she starts. —Sure I have seen that Face before— Art not Lysander, Page to Clemanthis?

Lys. Madam, I am, and ever serv’d that Master.

Cleo. How couldst thou then come near his Enemy?

Lys. Madam, it was by his Command I came.

Cleo. How could Clemanthis love his Murderer? It is no wonder then that generous Spirit Came while I slept, and pleaded for the Prince.

Lys. What means the Princess?

Enter Pimante.

Pim. Oh, Madam, I have news to tell you that will Make you forswear ever fighting again.

Cleo. What mean you?

Pim. As I was passing through a Street of Tents,
I saw a wounded Man stretcht on the ground;
And going, as others did, to learn his Fate,
I heard him say to those that strove to help him,
Alas, my Friends, your Succours are in vain;
For now I see the Gods will be reveng’d
For brave _Clemanthis’. Murder.
How! cry’d I out, are you then one of those
Thersander sent to kill that Cavalier?
Thersander, cry’d he, had no hand in it;
But Artabazes set us on to kill him.
Here he began to faulter in his Speech;
And sure he spoke the truth, for ‘twas his last.

Cleo. This looks like Truth. Thersander’s every Action Declar’d too much of Virtue and of Honour, To be the Author of so black a Deed. —Tell him, I’ll visit him, and beg his pardon. [To Lys. who bows and goes out. —Generous Thersander, if this News be true, My Eyes shall spare some drops for injuring you.

[Excunt.

SCENE V. Changes to Thersander’s Tent.

He in a Night-gown sitting on a Couch; by him the King,
Officers, Attendants to them. Enter Cleomena, Semiris,
Pimante; Lysander; the King rises to meet Cleo. and
seats her in a Chair by him.

Cleo. Thersander, I am come to beg thy pardon,
If thou art innocent, as I must believe thee,
And here before the King to make confession
Of what I did refuse the Queen my Mother.
—Know then, I lov’d, and with a perfect Passion,
The most unfortunate of Men, Clemanthis.
His Birth I never knew, but do believe
It was illustrious, as were all his Actions;
But I have lost him by a fatal accident,
That very day he should have fought with you.
[Weeps.

Ther. Gods! where will this end? [Aside.

Cleo. But e’er the fatal moment of his Death, Ismenes beg’d to know who did the Murder: But he could answer nothing but Thersander, And we believ’d it you. Then Love and my Revenge made me a Soldier; —You know the rest— And doubtless you’ve accus’d me with Ingratitude.

Ther. No, I shall ne’er complain of Cleomena, [He kneels before her. If she still love Clemanthis.

Cleo. There needs no more to make me know that Voice. Oh stay, this Joy too suddenly surprizes— [Ready to swound. —Gently distil the Bliss into my Soul, Lest this Excess have the effects of Grief: —Oh, my Clemanthis! do I hold thee fast? And do I find thee in the Prince of Scythia?

King. I lose my Reason by this strange encounter!

Ther. Was’t then a secret to my Cleomena, That her Clemanthis was the Prince of Scythia? I still believ’d that was his only Crime.

Cleo. By all my Joys I knew it not—but sure This is Enchantment; for it is as certain These Eyes beheld thee dead.

Pim. Ay, and so did I, I’ll be sworn.

Ther. That must be poor Amintas in my Dress, Whose Story, when you know, you will bemoan.

Cleo. But oh my Life! the cruel Wound I gave thee, Let me be well assur’d it is not mortal, Or I am lost again.

King. The Surgeon gives me hopes, and ‘twere convenient You should forbid him not to speak too much—

Enter a Soldier.

Sold. Arm, arm, great Sir, I think the Enemy Is rallying afresh, for the Plain is cover’d With numerous Troops, which swiftly make this way.

King. They dare not break the Truce.

Sold. I know not, Sir, but something of a King I heard them talk of—

Cleo. It is Vallentio that has kept his word—
Receive ‘em, Sir, as Friends, not Enemies;
It is my Brother, who ne’er knew till now
Ought of a peopled World.

King. I long to see that Monarch, whose Friendship I
Must court for you, fair Princess:
If you’ll accept Thersander whom I offer’d,
I do not doubt an happy Peace on both sides.

Cleo. Sir. ‘tis an honour which we ought to sue for.

Ther. And ‘tis to me a Blessing— I wanted Confidence to ask of Heaven.

Enter Ors. Val. Hon. Art. Ism. Geron. Soldiers, &c. Ors. drest gay with a Truncheon in his Hand, advances first, is met by the King, who gaze on each other.

Ors. If thou be’st he that art _Orsames’. Enemy, I do demand a Sister at thy Hands.

King. Art thou Orsames?

Ors. So I am call’d by all that yet have view’d me:
—Look on me well—
Dost see no marks of Grandure in my Face?
Nothing that speaks me King?

King. I do believe thou art that King, and here [Gives him Cleo. I do resign that Sister thou demandest.

Ors. It is a Woman too! another Woman! I wou’d embrace thee if I durst approach thee.

Cleo. You need not fear, you may embrace your Sister—
[Cleo. embraces him.

Ors. This is the kindest Women I e’er saw.

Cleo. Brother, behold this King no more your Enemy, Since I must pay him Duty as a Father.

Enter Queen, Olympia, Women.

Ors. Hah, Olympia! sure ‘tis an airy Vision—

Ger. Approach her, Sir, and try.

Qu. Permit a wretched Mother here to kneel.

King. Rise, Madam, and receive me as your Friend; This pair of Lovers has united all our Interests. [Points to Cleo. and Thers.

Qu. Heavens! what’s this I see, Clemanthis And the Prince of Scythia?

Ther. Yes, Madam, and a Man that humbly begs The happy Title of your Son—Honorius, Of you I ask the greatest Pardon— [Talks to Olympia.

Ors. I am a King, and do adore thee too,
And thou shalt rule a World with me, my Fair;
A Sword I’ll give thee, with a painted Bow,
Whence thou shalt shoot a thousand gilded Arrows.

Olym. What to do, Sir?

Ors. To save the expence of Cruelty; For they will kill as sure, but rightly aim’d; This noble Fellow told me so. [To Val.

Olym. Sir, I’ll do any thing that you will have me: But now the Queen your Mother, Sir, expects you.

Ors. Instruct my Eyes, Olympia, for ‘tis lately I’ve learnt of some such thing.

Olym. This, Sir, you ought to kneel to her.

Ors. Must I then kneel to ought but Heaven and thee? [Kneels.

Qu. My dear Orsames, let my Tears make way. Before I can assure thee of my Joy.

Ors. Gods! how obliging is this kind Concern! Not all my Passion for my fair Olympia Cou’d ever yet betray me to a Tear. [Weeps.

Qu. Thou’st greater need of Anger than of Tears,
Having before thy Eyes thy worst of Enemies,
One that has long depriv’d thee of a Crown,
Through what she thought her Duty to the Gods;
But now repents her superstitious Error,
And humbly begs thy Pardon.

Ors. I will, if you’ll implore Olympia but to love me.

Qu. I will, my Orsames; and ‘tis the only Present I can make to expiate my Fault.

Ors. And I’ll receive her as the only thing Can make me both a happy Subject and a King. Oh, Geron, still if this should prove a Dream!

Ger. Sir, Dreams of Kings are much less pleasant.

Enter Lysander.

Lys. Sir, there are without some Shepherdesses, Who say they wou’d present you [To Ther. Something that will not be unwelcome to your Highness.

Ther. Let them come in—

They seat themselves. Enter Amin. Ura. maskt, Shepherds, Shepherdesses, followed with Pipes, or Wind-Musick. They dance; after which Amin. kneels to the Prince, Ura. to the Princess.

—My dear Amintas, do I find thee live?
Fortune requites my Sufferings
With too large a share of Happiness.

Amin. Sir, I do live to die again for you.

Ther. This, my Divine, is he who had [To Cleo. The Glory to be bewail’d by you; for him you wept; For him had almost dy’d.

Amin. That Balm it was, that like the Weapon-salve Heals at a distance—

Cleo. But why, Amintas, did you name Thersander, When you were askt who wounded you?

Amin. Madam, if loss of Blood had given me leave, I wou’d have told you how I came so habited, And who I was, though not how I was wounded.

King. Still I am in a mist, and cannot see the happy path I tread.

Ther. Anon we will explain the Mystery, Sir.

Hon. Now, great Orsames, ‘tis but just and fit
That you receive the Rites of Coronation,
Which are not to be paid you in a Camp;
The Court will add more to that joyful Day.

King. And there we’ll join our Souls as well as Swords, Our Interests as our Families.

Ors. I am content that thou should’st give me Laws:
Come, my Vallentio, it shall ne’er be said
I recompense thy Services
With any thing less grateful than a Woman:
—Here, I will chuse for thee—
And when I know what ‘tis I more can do,
If there be ought beyond this Gift, ‘tis thine.
[Gives him Sem.

Ther. Scythia and Dacia now united are: The God of Love o’ercomes the God of War. After a Dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses, the Epilogue is spoken by Mrs. Barry, as a Nymph; at his Royal Highness’s second Exile into Flanders.

EPILOGUE.

_After our showing Play of mighty Pains,
We here present you humble Nymphs and Swains.
Our rustick Sports sometimes may Princes please,
And Courts do oft divert in Cottages,
And prize the Joys with some young rural Maid,
On Beds of Grass beneath a lovely Shade,
’.ove all the Pride of City-Jilts, whose Arts
Are more to gain your Purses than your Hearts;
Whose chiefest Beauty lies in being fine;
And Coyness is not Virtue, but Design.
We use no Colours to adorn the Face,
No artful Looks, nor no affected Grace,
The neighbouring Stream serves for a Looking-glass.
Ambition is not known within our Groves;
Here’s no Dispute for Empire, but for Loves;
The humble Swain his Birth-right here enjoys,
And fears no Danger from the publick Voice;
No Wrong nor Insolence from busy Powers,
No Rivals here for Crowns, but those of Flowers,
His Country and his Flocks enjoy with ease,
Ranges his native Fields and Groves in Peace;
Nor forc’d by Arbitrary Votes to fly
To foreign Shores for his Security.
Our humble Tributes uncompell’d we pay,
And cheerful Homage to the Lord of May;
No Emulation breaks his soft Repose,
Nor do his Wreaths or Virtues gain him Foes:
No publick Mischiefs can disturb his Reign,
And Malice would be busy here in vain.
Fathers and Sons just Love and Duty pay;
This knows to be indulgent, that t’obey.
Here’s no Sedition hatcht, no other Plots,
But to entrap the Wolf that steals our Flocks.
Who then wou’d be a King, gay Crowns to wear,
Restless his Nights, thoughtful his Days with Care;
Whose Greatness, or whose Goodness cant secure
From Outrages which Knaves and Fools procure?

Greatness, be gone, we banish you from hence,
The noblest State is lowly Innocence.
Here honest Wit in Mirth and Triumph reigns,
Musick and Love shall ever bless our Swains,
And keep the Golden Age within our Woods and Plains_.