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.