University of Virginia Library

SCENE the Fourth.

A Tent.
Enter Cleo. and Semiris drest as women again.
Sem.
Dear Madam, I could wish you'd sleep a while.

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 trie to sleep—
[Lies down on a Couch, Sem. plays and sings.
SONG made by J. Wright Esq;

[Cleo. rises as in a Dream.
Return, my dear Clemanthis, oh return,
And see 'tis not into thy lov'd 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 dost 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,
And idle dream, born from a troubled fancie:
—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 Murtherer:
To which with one of his hands he seem'd to point;
The other stretching out with passionate actions,
And gazing on me,—thus methought he spoke:
—See how you recompence 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 Phantome.

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 one visit from you he implores,
And after that he'l trouble you no more.

[Weeps.
Cleo.
That I will grant to satisfie 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 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 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 Lysander, 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 could'st thou then come near his Enemy?

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

Cleo.
How! could Clemanthis love his Murtherer?
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 murther.
How! cri'd I out, Are you then one of those
Thersander sent to kill that Cavalier?
Thersander, cry'd he, had no hand in't;
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 Lysander, who bows and goes out.
—Generous Thersander, if this news be true,
My Eyes shall spare some drops for injuring you.

[Exeunt.
Scene 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 his Actions;
But I have lost him by a fatal accident,
That very day he should have fought with you.

[Weeps.
Thers.
Gods! where will this end?

[Aside.
Cleo.
But e're the fatal moment of his death,
Ismenis beg'd to know who did the Murther,
But he could answer nothing but Thersander,
And we believ'd it you:
Then Love and my Revenge made me a Souldier;
—You know the rest—
And doubtless you've accus'd me with Ingratitude.

Thers.
No, I shall ne'er complain of Cleomena,
[He kneels before her.
If she still loves 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!

Thers.
Was't then a secret to my Cleomena,
That her Clemanthis was the Prince of Scythia?
I still believ'd that was his onely 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.

Thers.
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 Souldier.
Sould.
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.

Sould.
I know not, Sir, but something of a King I heard 'em talk of—

Cleo.
It is Vallentio that has kept his word—
Receive 'em, Sir, as Friends, not Enemies;
It is my Brother, who ne're 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.

Thers.
And 'tis to me a blessing—
I wanted confidence to ask of Heaven.

Enter Orsames, Vallentio, Honorius, Artabazes, Ismenis, Souldiers, &c. Orsames 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 grandeur in my face?
Nothing that speaks me King?

King.
I do believe thou art that King, and here
[Gives him Cleomena.
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 woman I e're 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.

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

Thers.
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 th' 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?

Queen.
My dear Orsames, let my Tears make way,
[Kneels.
Before I can assure thee of my joy.

Ors.
Gods! how obliging is this kind concern!
Nor all my passion for my fair Olympia
Cou'd ever yet betray me to a Tear.

[Weeps.
Queen.
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 errour,
And humbly begs thy pardon.

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

Queen.
I will, my Orsames; and 'tis the onely present
I can make to expiate my fault.

Ors.
And I'll receive her as the onely thing
Can make me both a 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
Something that will not be unwelcome to your Highness.

[To Thers.
Thers.
Let them come in—
They seat themselves. Enter Amintas, Urania masks, 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.

Thers.
This, my Divine, was 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 bloud had given me leave,
I wou'd have told him 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.

Thers.
Anon we will explain the mystery, Sir.

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

King.
And there we'll joyn our Souls as well as Swords,
Our Interests as our Familes.

Ors.
I am content that thou should'st give me Laws:
Come, my Vallentio, it shall ne'er be said
I recompenc'd 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.
Thers.
Scythia and Dacia now united are:
The God of Love o'recomes the God of War.

After a Dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses, the Epilogue is spoken by Mrs. Bary, as a Nymph; at his R. H. second exile into Flanders.