 | Camilla |  |
SCENE VII.
The Palace.Enter Metius, Linco, and Camilla.
Met.
Art thou the Swain that did resort,
In former Times, unto the Volscian Court?
Linc.
Sir, I am.
Met.
And Dorinda—
Linc.
And Dorinda—
Cam.
What of Dorinda thou desir'st to hear,
Let the poor Shepherdess her self declare.
Great Metabo thou once didst serve.
Met.
With an approv'd Fidelity.
Cam.
Should he return th'Imperial Reins to hold.
Met.
With Joy the People would behold
Their lawful Lord,
With Joy receive Great Metabo restor'd.
Cam.
Should he be no more.
Met.
The Royal Exile bury'd on some Foreign Shore,
I would for ever mourn.
Cam.
But should Camilla once return,
Might she of thy Faith be sure?
Met.
To restore her to her own,
And place her on her Father's Throne,
All I gladly would endure.
Cam.
Metius, great Metabo is dead, but see
His wretched Daughter still survive in me.
Met.
Art thou Camilla?
Cam.
Yes, and thy Promise claim.
Met.
All I'll venture to restore ye,
Injur'd Princess, to your Right:
If my Sword too weak should prove,
I swear by Empire, and by Love,
By those Pow'rs that now smile o'er ye,
With your pointed Fyes I'll Fight.
All I'll venture, &c.
Cam.
See the just Gods of Innocence
Regard, with tender Eyes,
8
Pow'rs unseen are arm'd to rise,
United all in my Defence,
They drive Despair far off from hence,
And work my Sorrows Cure.
[Exeunt.
| Camilla | |