University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

SCENE A Palace.
Enter Thomyris, Orontes, and a Captain of the Guards.
Tho.
By Time most Vict'ries lose their Fame,
But yours the common Fate disclaim.
The conscious Foes, with Grief, confess
How great their Loss, and your Success.
They miss their brave Allie, Tigranes.

Oron.
Among the Slain
For him they've sought in vain.
Fin or tra j morti l'han cercato in vano.

Tho.
Perhaps a Pris'ner, here unknown,
He may himself disown.

Oron.
Let Search be made.
[To the Captain, who bows and goes out.
Ite a cercarlo.

Tho.
Since thus, my Son, ev'n Sov'raigns are
Subject to the Chance of War,
Your Nuptials must, without Delays,
Secure our Empire, and our Race.
To such an Hymen must I press you?
Must I sue so long, to bless you?

“Oron.
Oh! Mis-call not disobeying,
“Gracious Queen, a short delaying!
“War commands an instant Duty.
“Let your Soldier strive to prove
“Worthy Honour, worthy Love,
“And, by Glory, rise to Beauty.

“Tho.
Oh! Grieve me not with more Delays!
“By all the Heroes of our Race,
“By the dear, the moving Name
“Of thy great Father, by his Fame,
“By a Nation's Love, and Fears,
“By thy widow'd Mother's Tears;
“Mother's Tears, that yet disgrace
“A Royal Face!
“Oh! no more, no more delay me!
“Kill at once, or now obey me.
AIR.

Oron.
Ah! too too much my Soul you move.
Ye cruel Pow'rs!—Oh Tyrant Love!
[Aside.
Oh Queen! Oh Mother! I for Pity sue:
I plead against my stubborn Heart for you;
I'm rack'd, I'm torn in the Debate:
I struggle with Aversion strong as Fate.
I dread Complying,
I dread Denying,
More than Dying.
Ahi, potenze all' Alma mia
Troppo fiere! Ahi! crudo Amore!
Deh! Pietà, Regina, e Madre!
Quell' Oggetto, ch'io combatto
Sol per voi, dentro il mio seno,
E'piu forte del mio fato.
Temo Ubbidire,
E negar, piu che morire.
AIR.
[Orontes leads out Thomyris.

Da capo.
[Exeunt.
“The SCENE changes to a Garden.
“Cleora
is discover'd by a Fountain.
“AIR.

Enter Media, with a Letter, which she delivers to Cleora.
“Med.
A Fellow Captive, in Distress,
“This by his Keeper sends you.
“Not suffer'd nearer you to press,
“At Distance he attends you.

“Cleo.
What do I read!—Ye Pow'rs, 'tis too severe!
“Armenia's King, unknown, in Fetters here!
“The Man I cannot love, nor hate,
“Striving to save me, shares my Fate.
“Unhappy Prince! too late, alas! you move:
“Fortune has intercepted Love.
“The Heart is gone, for which you sue.
“Yet some Ease I'll strive to bring;
“And show how I revere in you
“The Choice of Cyprus, and the King.
“Sure I some Pity may discover
“To the Friend, tho' not the Lover.
[Exit Cleora.

Enter Baldo. He stops Media who is following Cleora.
Bald.
My Charmer!

Med.
My Tormenter.

Bald.
Stay.

Med.
I dare not.

Bald.
You may venture.
Tell me, Queen of my Desire,
When will Love reward the Fire
Of the Prince, and of the Squire?

Med.
For the Prince, all may go well:
But for you—I cannot tell.

Bald.
Don't you love me?

Med.
No, not I.

Bald.
How? not love me! That's uncommon!
What's the Reason?

Med.
I'm a Woman.

Bald.
Give a better.

Med.
Why, thou Creature,
Must a Woman give you many,
And you Lover's ne'er have any?

Bald.
Prithee tell me!

Med.
In good Nature, now I will—
Know, I value Reputation;
And by thy Looks, and by my Skill I foresee
What a Monster thou'rt to be.
Thy Wife, spight of Inclination,
Must be kind—to all the Nation.
AIR.

Bald.
I will prevent it, if you're my Spouse
Tho' now Husbands never mind it,
Nothing, when you're mine, will pain me.
I'll so ply you, Child, you'll find it
Work enough to entertain me.
AIR.

Med.
Prithee, Fellow, why so pressing,
Yet so negligent of Dressing?
So strangely needing
Air, and Breeding,
You disgrace one with Caressing.
AIR.

Bald.
A better way I'll please my Dear.
Sighs and Glances,
Foppish Fancies,
Soft and tender
Might offend her:
Honest Roughness gains the Fair.
AIR.
[He bows in an affected manner.
[Baldo dances.
[The Musick striking up in the middle of the Song.

Med.
No, no, no Dressing, no Possessing.

[Media runs off, and Baldo follows her.

SCENE II.

A Prison
“Tigr.
Without Freedom, Life's a Pain.
“Without Love, we live in vain.
“Love and Freedom disagree:
“How can Hope then comfort me,
“Without Love's Sweets, and Liberty?
“Hope's but a Flatterer, that deludes, to please:
“Life's but a Pain, and Death our only Ease.
A Light is discover'd.
What Splendor dares invade a Cave
Familiar with the Night!
Those Beams, that Heav'n as Blessings gave,
Now wound my Eyes, grown Strangers to the Light.

Enter Cleora with Attendants, who keep at a Distance.
Tigr.
Ye Pow'rs! What Goddess, lower than the Grave
Thus condescends to charm, and save,
So ravishingly bright!

Cleo.
Tigranes! Oh!

[Weeps discovering him.
Tigr.
'Tis Cleora! oh! 'tis she.

Cleo.
Oh! killing Sight!

Tigr.
Oh Joy! oh Pain! Confusion, yet Delight!

Cleo.
Heav'ns! without Pity can you see
Majesty in Misery!

Tigr.
Cruel Fortune! Fate unkind!
I in Chains, and she confin'd!

Cleo.
Brave Tigranes, oh! forbear!
For my sake those Chains you wear:
Will you teach me to despair?
I, tho' a Captive, like the Free,
May taste the Sweets of Liberty.
But I share, 'till I relieve you,
The Pains that grieve you.

Tigr.
Oh! at once you fill with Joy,
“Proud of Ruin, Free in Chains,
“My Soul revels, Pleasure reigns.
“When I ventur'd all to free you,
“Fortune to the Foe betray'd me.
“But now, when so kind I see you,
“Pitying Heav'n has o'er-pay'd me.
AIR.

Cleo.
apart.
Turn ingrate, rebellious Heart,
Whom a Foe alone can move!
Oh! I cannot tear the Dart.
Gratitude my Tears impart;
But Pity will not turn to Love.

“Tigr.
Again you Weep! Oh! now you pain me,
“Am I worth the Tears I cost?
“Ah! no, you weep your Freedom lost.
“Why like a Slave, ye Pow'rs, d'ye chain me,
“I'm a King, no more detain me.
“Why sleeps your Thunder?
“Wake, and strike my Bonds asunder.

AIR.
Cleo.
Oh! in Pity cease to grieve me!
Do but live, Fate will relieve me.
Joy and Pleasure may return.

Tigr.
Oh! in Pity cease to grieve me!
Do but smile, Fate will relieve me.
Joy and Pleasure will return.

Cleo., Tigr.
“I alone may be lamenting.

Cleo.
“Your Despair is too tormenting.

Tigr.
“Oh! your Sorrow's too tormenting.

“Both.
Grief redoubles, when you mourn.
“Oh in Pity, &c.

Enter Orontes and Attendants.
Oron.
apart.
Death to my Hopes! what do I hear and see!
My Soul's untun'd with envy'd Harmony.
Just were my Doubts. Oh! how my Soul is mov'd;
Sure 'tis Tigranes, or a Rival lov'd.
Deh che vedo, ed ahi! che Sento?
Giusti dubbi del mio Core!
Non m'inganno, egli è Tigrane,
O un rivale del mio amore.

Cleo.
The Prince of Scythia! oh! my Shame!
[Aside.

Tigr.
Fatal Turn!

Oron.
Happy he, who here to mourn
May Cleora's Presence claim!
Lieto lui, chi pianger puote
Di Cleora innanzi agli occhi!

Cleo.
Rather wretched those who grieve,
When we have only Tears to give.
Doubly wretched in Despair,
When you envy 'em a Tear.

Oron.
Oh! you my Fears can ne'er remove.
The Springs of Pity flow like Love.
No; d'amor dalla sorgente
Di Pieta deriva il pianto.

Tigr.
Tho' Love and Pity now were joining,
Why should you be repining?

Oron.
What vanquish'd Foe dares talk so high?
Qual Vinto mai osò parlar si franco?

Tigr.
A Soul unconquer'd dares all Foes defie.

Oron.
Ah! 'tis Tigranes sure—'tis he.
Ben m'auveggo, egli è Tigrane.

Tigr.
'Tis I; still Royal, spight of Fate—
In Rage I lose my Shame.
Undaunted, and in Ruin great,
The Lion is the same.

Oron.
Then know—But, Guards, from Chains
First set him free—
Know, I'll not yield my beauteous Prize to thee.
Sappi dunque—Ma sciogliete,
Guardie, pria le sue catene—
La mia bella a te non cedo.

Tigr.
Not yield her! Fate, oh once be kind:
Set me but free, the Fair shall be resign'd.
Do you, my Goddess, but conspire
With Cyrus, and my Fire,
From Chains I dare to Heav'n aspire.

Oron.
Ah! Princess!
Ah! Principessa!

Cleo.
I dare not think of Love or Hate:
'Tis Cyrus over-rules my Fate.

AIR.
Oron.
Say, must I then despair?
Will you, my cruel Fair,
No more regard me?
Oh! grant me Love again!
Or let me ne'er complain:
With Death reward me.
Dimmi, pietà ed amor,
Bella, non ha il tuo Cor
Per chi t'adora?
Risolviti d'amar:
O se deggio penar,
Lascia chio moro.

Cleo.
OH! Leave me to despair!
From Hope, and all that's dear,
My Fate debarr'd me.

Oron.
Say, must I then despair? &c.
Dimmi, pietà ed amor, &c.

Cleo.
Oh! Leave me to despair, &c.

[Cleora retires, Orontes following her, both singing all the while.
Exeunt.
Tigr.
She's gone! she's gone! the conqu'ring Foe pursues her.
She's yielding—Oh! I lose her.
AIR.

SCENE IV.

A Palace.
Enter Cleora, follow'd by Orontes.
Oron.
Stay, cruel Beauty!
Soon, call'd by Duty,
To kinder War I'll go.
Since you leave me,
And no Pity show,
Death will not grieve me.
Resta, o cruda! il mio dovere
Alla guerra già me chiama.
Se mia Vita a Voi non preme,
Sol la morte è la mia Speme.

Cleo.
First by War, and you undone,
Greater Dangers yet I shun.
Cruel Prince, while you pursue me,
Love, and you, may more undo me.
AIR.

Enter Thomyris.
Oron.
The Queen!
La Regina!

Exit Cleora.
Thom.
aside.
My Son, and that lovely Foe!
Sure their Looks betray'd Surprize!
In my Breast some Doubts arise,
Which yet I dread the gazing Croud should know.
A Sov'raign's Thought must still be lying
Deep, to 'scape the Vulgar's prying.

Oron.
Freed from Chains, as soon as known,
Great Queen, Tigranes is remaining.
“Tho' distress'd,
“Not depress'd,
‘In sullen State by Choice alone,
“Favour from a Foe disdaining.
E'Tigrane in vostro mano.
Non si tosto lo connobbi
Che lo resi in Libertade.

Tho.
Your Valour vanquish'd him before;
By gen'rous Care subdue him more,
His Wants preventing.
“To you the Royal Foe I leave,
“Sure Favours to receive,
“Tho' not consenting.
AIR.

[Exeunt.
Enter Baldo, fantastically dress'd.
Bald.
What Plague is like Dressing! To work I'm well set.
In all her odd Whims, I must nick a Cocquet.
This Maggot of Coupling
Now makes me a Fopling;
All larded with Gold, stuff'd with Ribbons and Lace,
Still fiddling, to mend a damn'd finical Dress.
Oh! what a Fatigue, to set off a good Face.
AIR.

Enter Media.
Bald.
Oh! yonder comes Media! my Charms I must try.

Med.
Bless me! what Monster do I spy!

Bald.
My Goddess, 'tis I.
Look, languish, and die! Look and die!

Med.
Away, Fool, away!
Young Foplings divert us, when handsom and gay:
But an old Fop is dull every way.

Bald.
Try me well e're this you say.

Med.
No worse Plague could e're befall thee.

Bald.
What would I not do, to maul thee!

AIR.
Med.
Shou'd e'er the Fair disdain you,
Leave her, and learn to range!
In vain complain you;
The more she'll hate and chain you.
Hate her again, and change!
Shou'd e'er the Fair disdain you,
Leave her, and learn to range!

Bald.
Pray what nice Lover
Proves a Rover,
'Till the Whim of Love is over?
I would leave you, you so fret me;
But Point of Honour will not let me.
Then any other Task command me,
And if I don't perform, disband me.

Med.
You'll not do it.

Bald.
I will.

Med.
I fear it.

Bald.
On this trusty Sword I swear it.

[Draws his Sword
Med.
Kill your self then!—No denying.

Bald.
I deny!—See,—I'm complying.
Hold—I might spoil this Face by dying.

“Med.
Go! A Coward ne'er can charm me,
“Valour only can disarm me.

Bald.
Well, since you will my Valour try,
I'll to the Bed of Honour fly,
And return in yours to die.
AIR.

[She runs from him, he follows her.
Enter Tigranes in a Princely Dress, Orontes with him.
Tigr.
To your Favour much I owe:
I find Friendship in a Foe.
But how soon my Blessings end!
I find a Rival in the Friend.
Tho' I by you Cleora see,
The greatest Pleasure once to me,
When this I by a Rival gain,
The greatest Pleasure turns to Pain.

Oron.
Repine not at the Joys I share,
Tho' hopeless of possessing!
To see the Fair,
Is still a Blessing.
Pago son di tal piacere,
Sol veder la è mia fortuna,
Se non spero de godere.
AIR.

Da Capo
Tigr.
Oh! lead me back to Dungeons and to Chains,
Or let me loose, to end my Pains.
My Heart can no Rival bear;
Jealous, ev'n of your Despair.

Enter Cleora.
Oron.
Since uneasie still you prove,
Impatient of my hopeless Love;
I all Advantages disclaim,
Unworthy of my Love, and Fame—
'Tis at an Army's Head alone
A Prize so noble shou'd be won—
Your Freedom to Cleora owe,
Now, as she pleases, stay, or go!
Exit Orontes.
S'il mio amor ti reca pena,
Non vuò alcun diritto indegno
Del mio amor, e di mia gloria.
Alla testa d'ell' Armata
Vuò acquistar premio si bello:
S'ora libero tu sei,
A Cleora tu lo dei:
S'a lei piace, resta, o vanne!

AIR.
Cleo.
Ye Pow'rs! Oh! let me know,
What Reason ought to sway?
Shall I say, stay, or go?
Shall I say, go, or stay?
There's something in my Heart,
That tells me we shou'd part:
But yet, when this I move,
'Tis thought a Wrong to Love.
He'll say I disdain:
He'll rage, and complain.
I dare not say, stay, nor go; go, nor stay.
Ye Powr's, oh! let me know,
What Reason ought to sway!

Tigr.
Oh! no more your Thoughts disguise.
I read my Sentence in your Eyes.
Yet so well I Love, I'll ease you,
Nay die to please you.
AIR.
[Exit Tigranes.

Re-enter Orontes.
Oron.
Lovely Mourner, still why grieve you?
I, alas! too soon must leave you.
Happy yet, if with a Tear
You, my Love—
Ah! che piangi, o Bella? Io vado
Ma felice, s'al mio amore
S'accompagna il tuo dolore.—

Cleo.
The Queen is near—
“Suffer me to hide, by Flight,
“My Disorder from her Sight.
[Exit Cleora.

Enter Thomyris.
Tho.
aside.
What did I hear?
Fatal Beauty, Youth's Decoy,
Blasts a Parent's Hope, and Joy.
But I'll seem not yet to know—
To him.
Come, my Son, no more bestow
Your Hours on a conquer'd Foe.
“Danger's ready to pursue you,
“Let not Persian Pow'r subdue you!
“Foes unvanquish'd are appearing;
“Wary Chiefs, with Numbers daring.
“Haste, again the Slaves defeat!
“Be still your self, still truly great!
“Haste, free the World, and do the Work of Fate.
“Cyrus the Grand, by you declining,
“His Glory to your Arms resigning,
“Still shall raise your high Renown.
“Immortal Laurels shall the Hero crown,
“Who strikes the Blow I guide,
“And throws Ambition down.
AIR.

[Exeunt.