University of Virginia Library

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.