University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

An apartment illuminated: a seat; a table on one side and a sceptre and crown upon it.
Cleonice seated, leaning upon the table, Olinthus.
Cleo.
Enough, Olinthus, in a few short moments
The impatient people at the destin'd place
Shall see their queen: they ask of me to choose
A husband and a king—yes, I will choose
A king and husband: give me but an instant
To recollect my thoughts. Why am I press'd
With such unmanner'd zeal? Have then my vassals
No more respect? And was it but to enslave,
You rais'd me to the throne? Or do you scorn
To yield subjection to a female sway?
But Cleonice is not yet the first
Example of her sex; Scythia has own'd
The rule of Thomyris and of Thalestris;
And Babylon and Carthage have confess'd
The reigns of Dido and Semiramis.

Olin.
Forgive me, queen, unjustly you complain:
Say, has not Syria witness'd to your virtues?
Remember, when your mighty father died,
She plac'd you on the throne; to you intrusted
Th' election of her king; allow'd you time
For counsel and reflection: ever since
She strives in vain to hasten on the hour,
Long promis'd by yourself to make her happy:
Yet you reproach your people. O! my queen,
Unjustly you complain.

Cleo.
In Cleonice
If thus the realm confide, you cannot sure
Refuse her now some minutes of delay.

Olin.
O Heaven! so oft our hopes have been deceiv'd,
With reason 'tis we fear. Two moons entire
Seleucia gave your pious grief to weep
A father's loss; the third is in its wane,
Yet are you unresolv'd. Sometimes to excuse
Your long delay, you plead a fatal dream,
Or unpropitious day: now from the right
You see the lightning flash; now from the altar
Oblique ascends the flame: the bird of night
Now breaks your slumbers with his funeral song;
And now your eyes involuntary pour
The sudden tear.

Cleo.
Alas! my fears were true.

Olin.
After such fond pretences, urg'd in vain,
At length this day you promis'd for your choice:
Your subjects all assembled, with impatience
Prevent the rising morn: each decks his person
With utmost pomp to appear before his queen.
Some clothe their limbs in costly silken vests,
Wrought by Sidonian virgins; some in wool,
Of deepest Tyrian dye; while o'er the brows
Of some the pride of foreign plumage nods
Amid the turban's folds; or from their temples
Depend the costly strings of Indian pearl.
Others with gems and burnish'd gold adorn
The stately trappings of the Parthian steed.
This day whate'er is precious Syria shows;
And every treasure now is brought to light,
Which fearful avarice had for years conceal'd.

Cleo.
How little this avails to ease my heart!

Olin.
But wherefore all these cares, this useless pomp,
If from the morn till noon, in expectation,
From noon till eve they wait, yet wait in vain?
The night declines apace, but still you come not.
Irresolute, uncertain, still you're lost
In anxious doubts, while each delay seems short
And insufficient to confirm your thoughts:
Yet you reproach your people. O my queen,
Unjustly you complain.

Cleo.
'Tis all too true;
Yes, I must yield to hard necessity:
Go then, and I will follow: I will choose
My husband, and content my kingdom's wishes.

Olin.
Reflect—remember that your faithful subject
Olinthus loves you—that my blood—

Cleo.
I know
It flows unsullied from a race of heroes.

Olin.
Then add to this the virtues of Phenicius.

Cleo.
Of these I'm not to learn.

Olin.
His prudent counsels—

Cleo.
Oft have I prov'd their worth, and tried his faith;
Whate'er thou say'st, Olinthus, I confess.

Olin.
And yet you know not all—unnoted long,
Enamour'd of your beauties, have I pin'd
A secret lover—

Cleo.
O forbear, and leave me!

Olin.
Can I forbear?

Cleo.
Is this a time, Olinthus,
To talk of love?

[rises.
Olin.
Why swells your indignation,
If pleading here forgiveness—

Cleo.
Cease, and leave me.

Olin.

[Exit.