University of Virginia Library

Otrantes solus.
Otrant.
Oh the vast Riot of Loves Revelling Feast!
I have Enjoy'd a night of so much Rapture,
The softest, sweetest Cleomira mine!
Oh Lavish Providence, in this one Treasure
Thou hast made me Lord, Lord of that Infinite Mass,
Enough to Impoverish Earth and Bankrupt Heaven!
But why do I name Heaven? had the great Jove
In his Eternal Rambles met that face!
Her single Charms had fixt th'Almighty Wanderer;
Shackled th'unbounded Rover of the Skies,
And peopled from one stock the Heavens with Gods.

Enter Cleontes and Doranthe.
Cleont.
Well, you have got the beauteous Cleomira.

Otrant.
Got her, and with her all the Joys of Life!

Dorant.
If the gay Spoils of the once great Hormidas
Make up the Joys of Life, those Joys are yours.

Otrant.
His shining Treasures are not only mine;
But I am greater yet.

Cleont.
Yes, happy Sir,
All that the Favourite of a King can be you are.

Otrant.
More than the Favourite of a King I am;
The Son too of a King.

Gleont.
How, a Kings Son!

Otrant.
His Son, whilst Cleomira is his Daughter.

Cleont.
My Cleomira a Kings Daughter, say you?

Otrant.
Your Cleomira th'only true born Daughter
Of the great Isdigerdes.

Cleont.
Cleomira,
Heir of the Persian Crown! Ith' name of wonder then
Whose Daughter is the Princess Orundana?

Otrant.
Mine Sir.

Cleont.
Your Doughty Race?

Otrant.
My Race, my Daughter,
Born of that very Alexandrian Captive,
Supposed the Mother of your Cleomira.

Cleont.
More Riddles yet: An Alexandrian Captive
The Princess Mother!

Otrant.
Yes Sir, and my Wife:
For though indeed our Marriage we Conceal'd,
That Alexandrian Captive Sir I Married,
And by her had that titled vanity,
The now Imperial towring haughty Orundana.

Cleont.
Pray Sir unriddle this Miraculous Tale.

Otrant.
You may remember now near Twenty Years
The King was Husband to a Young Queen,
The fair Mandana; and by her
The Father of an Infant Princess call'd Orundana.

Cleont.
Remember't! ay too well, by this sad Token,
Th'Unhappy Queen, with her young Princess, then
But Eight Months old, were barbarously betray'd,
And sold to Proud Zoranes King of Arabia;
And Persia's Mortal Foe. One Fatal Evening
Taking the Air upon Euphrates Streams,
The vile Bagoas her Perfidious Eunuch,
That Barbarous Wretch bought by th'Arabians Gold,
Hurried her down the Stream too far and much
Too fast for all her helpless Guards to reach her.

Otrant.
Th'afflicted Queen thus lost, in nine long Months Captivity,
Sickning and almost drooping to a Grave;
To save the Branch, though the Fair Tree were lost,
Though watcht too narow for her own Escape,
Contriv'd a Plot to have her Royal Infant
Rescued from all her unsuspecting Goalours,
And sent a Present to her Mourning Lord.

Cleont.
Rescued!

Otrant.
Yes Sir, to have a borrowed Infant
By my assisting hand, conveyed to fill
The Royal Cradle, and supply the Princess.

Cleont.
So Sir.

Otrant.
I being then her Envoy from the King,
Own'd my whole Marriage to her Alexandrian:
(She with my Sister the young Princess Nurses,
Then the only Persian Train her Ravisher left her.)
Off'ring an Infant Daughter of my own.

Cleont.
Most kindly done!

Otrant.
In short, all things prepar'd,
I made the exchange unmark'd and unsuspected.

Cleont.
Your Daughter for the Princess! very well.

Otrant.
Here a strange tempting Thought of warm Ambition
Whisper'd my Soul, that this Exchange well manag'd
Might mount my own Translated Veins to Empire.

Cleont.
Sweet Villain!

[Aside.
Otrant.
As I expos'd
A Daughter to the sullen chance of Slavery,
Why not to th'Golden Lot of Glory too?
I'th dying Eyes of the Sick Queen too plainly
I saw approaching Death, and in her Death,
The Buried secret safe, the only Councel-Keepers,
A Wife and Sister, both soft Wax to mould at pleasure.
In less than one short Moon the Queen expired,
How by the King deplored, I need not tell,
Nor on what Terms the Princess was redeem'd,
It is enough my Daughter was that Princess.

Cleont.
Rare Rogue.

[Aside.
Otrant.
And to a Royal Fathers Arms received
More than a Princely Blessing. For (alas)
All things conspired for the Deceipt: for nine
Kind absent Months in a young Infants Face
Had worn out all Distinctions of the change.

Cleont.
Here's a sweet Dog.

[Aside.
Otrant.
But to conclude,
My Alexandrian not long surviving,
I gave the Royal Infant to my Sister,
And call'd her Cloemira, now no more
The Imperial Orundana; for that Title
My more exalted Blood had filled.

Cleont.
Well Sir, because
The dying Queen left my false Beast, your Sister,
And the proud Slave, your Wife, the only Confidents,
Your itching Pride thought fit to graft your own
Most hopeful Brat into the Blood of Cyrus.

Otrant.
Yes, Friend, but now my Cleomira's Charms
Have nurst a nobler Pride; I'le to the King,
Implore his pardon for my blushing Fault;
Unmask th'whole Truth and own my self his Son.

Cleont.
You are sure you will?

Otrant.
Yes Sir, I will do't.

Cleont.
Yes Sir, you shall do't,
Do't, tho it cost your Head; your Head bold Jugler.
Here's a fine Legerdemain put upon
A whole cheated Kingdom: and my precious Imp
In the Conspiracy?

Dor.
Alas, dear Sir,
Perswaded by a Brother—

Cleont.
By a Devil:
But by this light, I'le instantly to th'King
And ring him such a Peal—

[offers to go
Otrant.
Stay, Brother, stay,
All shall be well.

Cleont.
Well, in the name of Vengeance!

Otrant.
Upon my Word, my Honourable Word,
Before to Morrow's setting Sun, the King,
And the whole Court shall have the Tale at length.
Only 'tis fit that first I break the Secret
To Orundana, to prepare her Ear
For the unpleasing sound.

Cleont.
Well till to morrow,
For once I will strain hard to tye my Tongue up;
But such a Cursed Cheat—

Otrant.
No more; the King.

[Exeunt.