University of Virginia Library

SCENE the Fifth.

Enter Queen, Cleomena in a Night-gown, Semiris. A Table with Pen and Ink.
Cleo.
Madam, I confess my self unworthy of your tenderness.

Queen.
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?

Queen.
'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.

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

Cleo.
How, Madam, marry Thersander!

Queen.
The King has generously offer'd 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're 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'effects of my fierce Education?

Queen.
All things must be prefer'd to th' Publick good,
When joyn'd with my Commands.

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

Queen.
You'll find it fit to change that peevish humour,
And I will leave you to consider of it.

[Queen 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 his 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?
'Twas Anger and Revenge that gave ye charms,
Onely to help the weakness of my Arms;
And when my Womans 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.

Vall.
Madam, the last I dare affirm.

Cleo.
Tell me, Vallentio, did'st thou ever love?

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

Cleo.
But didst thou never feel a softer passion?

Vall.
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 Murtheress appear.

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

Vall.
My Princess, Madam, and my General,
And one, who from your power of Beauty holds
No less Dominion o're th' adoring world,
Than from the greatness you were born to.

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

Vall.
Madam, I am—Pimante has been prating.

[Aside.
Cleo.
The Army too are of your mind?

Vall.
I cannot answer for the Army, Madam.

Cleo.
But—what think you of Orsames?

Vall.
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?

Vall.
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 peoples God on Holy-days:
—And this, Vallentio, I have oft 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 onely say shall be but short,
But bloudy 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.

Vall.
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.

Vall.
If I miscarry, Madam, I'll be condemn'd
Never to look a Foe i'th' face again.

Cleo.
Haste, and be prosperous—
[Vall. exit.
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;
[Weeps.
With such a Guide I know 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 deni'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.
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?

Vall.

Yes, I have.

1 Cit.

Well, and what success? shall we have a King?

Vall.

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.

Vall.

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

busie Heads, working Brains, which must be executed; therefore what say you, are
we to have leave to shut up shop, and to go to work with long Staff and Bilboe, or
are we to be very mutinous, and do't in spight of you?

Vall.

You shall not need; go, shut up your Shops, gather your Fellow-mutineers
together, and meet me at the Cittadel; but be sure ye are well arm'd, lest the
Queens Guards prevent you.

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.

Vall.

Make haste, and then I'll shew you my Orders for the Kings Deliverance.

Cit.

Oh incomparable Colonel! we will raise thy Statue in Brass in the Marketplace,
and worship it when we have done—but harkey, Colonel, are we to give
no Quarter?

Vall.

None, to those that oppose you.

All.

No, no, none, none.

Cit.

O how this will please ye all, my Mates—

[Cit. go out.
Enter Pimante.
Pim.

Oh Colonel, the Princess, Colonel.

Vall.

Well, Sir.

Pim.

She's fled away, and none knows whither.

Vall.

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 should have seen! the dancing,
loving days!

Vall.

Gone alone?

Pim.

No, no, that dissembling thing Semiris is with her; she onely 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.
Vall.

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 Thersander's Tent: He enters with a Letter in his hand open—with Attendants.
Thers.
Be gone, I'll read the Letter o'er again,
And here impress thy cruelty, and see what that will do
To set me free.
Thers. 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 onely known to me; no, nor any other that cannot bring me his head; whereto I sollicite Artabazes, and Ismenis 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 too weak to counsel;
I'll think of nothing then 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.
'Tis I will pierce this unaccepted Heart,
Whose flames are found so criminal—

Enter Lysander.
Ly.
Sir, there is without a Youth desires admittance.

Thers.
From whom comes he?

Ly.
He would not tell me that, but has a Letter,
Which he'll deliver onely to your Highness.

Thers.
Bring him in, it may be from Amintas.
Enter Cleomena drest like a Country-Shepherd, comes bowing to him, gives him a Note.
Thers. 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—

Ly.
Help, Treason, help—

Thers.
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.
Thers.
'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, Guard.
King.
Thersander murther'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 Theasander;
Oh fatal day, wherein one fatal stroke
Has laid the hopes of Scythia in his Tomb!

[The Guards go to carry Cleo. and Sem. Thers. calls 'em back.
Thers.
Oh stay, and do not bear so rudely off.
Treasures you cannot value.
—Sir,—do not treat her as my Murtherer,
But as my Soveraign Deity—
Instead of Fetters, give her Crowns and Scepters;
And let her be conducted into Dacia,
With all the Triumphs of a Conquerour.
For me, no other glory I desire,
Than at her feet thus willingly t' expire.

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