University of Virginia Library

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.