University of Virginia Library

ACT the Second.

Scene the First.

A Castle or Prison on the Sea.
After a little playing on the Lute—
Enter Orsames with his Arms across looking melancholy, followed by Geron with a Lute in his hand.
Ors.
I do not like this Musick;
It pleases me at first,
But every touch thou giv'st that's soft and low
Makes such impressions here,
As puzzles me beyond Philosophie
To find the meaning of;
Begets strange notions of I know not what,
And leaves a new and unknown thought behind it,
That does disturb my quietness within.

Ger.
You were not wont to think so.

Ors.
'Tis true—
But since with time grows ripe and vigorous,
And will be active, though but ill employ'd.
—Geron, thou'st often told me,
That this same admirable frame of Nature,
This order and this harmony of things,
Was worthy admiration,
—And yet thou sayst all men are like to us,
Poor, insignificant Philosophers.
I, to my self could an Idea frame,
Of man, in much more excellence.
Had I been Nature, I had varied still,
And made such different characters of men,
They should have bow'd and made a God of me,
Ador'd, and thank'd me for their great creation:
—Now, tell me, who's indebted to her bounties?
Whose needless blessings we despise, not praise.

Ger.
Why, what wou'd you have done had you been Nature?

Ors.
Some men I wou'd have made with mighty Souls,
With thoughts unlimited by Heaven or Man;
I wou'd have made 'em—as—thou paint'st the Gods.

Ger.
What to have done?

Ors.
To have had dominion o'er the lesser world,
A sort of men with low submissive Souls,
That barely should content themselves with life,
And should have had th'infirmities of men,
As fear, and awe, as thou hast of the Gods;
And those I wou'd have made as numberless
As Curls upon the face of yonder Sea,
Of which each blast drives Millions to the Shoar,
Which vanishing, make room for Millions more.

Ger.
But what if these, so numerous, though so humble,
Refuse obedience to the mighty few?

Ors.
I would destroy them, and create anew.
—Hast not observ'd the Sea?
Where ev'ry Wave that hastens to the Bank,
Though in its angry course it overtake a thousand petty ones,
How unconcern'd 'twill triumph o'er their ruine,
And make an easie passage to the Shore,—

Ger.
Which in its proud career 'twill roughly kiss,
And then 'twill break to nothing.

Ors.
Why, thou and I, though tame and peaceable,
Are mortal, and must unregarded fall:
—Oh that thought! that damn'd resistless thought!
Methinks it hastens fate before its time,
And makes me wish for what I fain wou'd shun.

Ger.
Appease your self with thoughts of future bliss.

Ors.
Future bliss! the Dreams of lazy Fools;
Why did my Soul take habitation here,
Here in this dull unactive piece of Earth!
Why did it not take wing in its Creation,
And soar above the hated bounds of this?
What does it lingring here?

Ger.
To make it self fit for that glorious end
'Twas first design'd for,—
By patient suffering here.

Ors.
But Geron, still to live! still thus to live
In expectation of that future bliss,
(Though I believ'd it) is a sort of vertue
I find the Gods have not inspir'd me with.

Ger.
Philosophie will teach you, Sir—

Ors.
Not to be wise, or happy—
I'll hear no more of your Philosophie.
—Leave me—For I, of late desire to be without thee.

Ger.
This disobedience, Sir, offends the Gods—

Ors.
Let 'em do their worst,
For I am weary of the life they gave.

Ger.
He grows too wise to be impos'd upon,
And I unable to withstand his reasons.—

[Ger. goes out.
[Ors. lies down on the ground.
Enter Urania, and Keeper.
Keeper.

This Ring is sufficient warrant, and the Path on your right hand will
lead you to the Lord Amintas—but have a care you advance no further that
way.—

[Keeper exit.
Ura.
What strange disorder does possess my Soul!
And how my bloud runs shivering through my Veins,
As if alas 't had need of all its aid,
At this encounter with my dear Amintas.

Ors.
Ha! what noise is that?

[He rouzes.
Ura.
I heard a voice that way—or else it was the fear
This gloomy place possesses all that enter it:
—Stay, I was forbad that walk—
—Heav'ns! I have forgot which 'twas I should have taken,
I'll call my Love to guide me—Amintas, Amintas—

Ors.
What voice is that?
Methought it had more sweetness in't than Gerons—
[Rises, gazes, then runs fiercely to her.
—Ha—what charming thing art thou?

Ura.
'Tis not Amintas—yet I should not fear,
He looks above the common rate of men.
—Sir, can you direct my way—
To find a Prisoner out they call Amintas?

Ors.
—Oh Gods! it speaks, and smiles, and acts like me!
It is a man, a wonderous lovely man!
Whom Nature made to please me.
—Fair thing, pray speak again:
Thy Voice has Musick in't that does exceed
All Geron's Lutes, pray bless my Ears again.

Ura.
Sir, as you're Noble, as you are a Gentleman,
Instruct me where to find my Lord Amintas.

Ors.
Bright Creature! sure thou wert born i'th' upper world,
Thy Language is not what we practise here;
Speak on, thou harmony to every Sense,
Ravish my Ear as well as sight and touch.

Ura.
Surely he's mad—nay, Sir, you must not touch me.

Ors.
Perhaps thou art some God descended hither,
[Retires and bows.
And cam'st to punish, not to bless thy Creatures;
Instruct me how to adore you so,
As to retain you here my houshold-God,
And I and Geron still will kneel and pray to you.

Ura.
Alas, I am a woman.

Ors.
A Woman! what's that?
Something more powerful than a Deity;
For sure that word awes me not less than t'other.

Ura.
What can he mean—oh I shall die with fear—
[Aside.
—Sir, I must leave you.

Ors.
Leave me! oh no, not for my future being!
You needs must live with me, and I will love you;
I've many things that will invite you to't:
I have a Garden compass'd round with Sea,
Which ev'ry day shall send fresh Beauties forth,
To make thee Wreaths to crown thy softer Temples.
Geron shall deck his Altars up no more;
The gawdy Flowers shall make a Bed for thee,
Where we will wanton out the heat o'th' day—
What things are these, that rise and fall so often?
[Touches her Breasts.
Like Waves, blown gently up by swelling Winds;
Sure thou hast other wonders yet unseen,
Which these gay things maliciously do hide.

Ura.
Alas, I am undone, what shall I do?—

[Aside.
Ors.
—Nature, thy conduct's wise! nor could thy favours
Be giv'n to one more apprehensive of 'em!
—Say, lovely Woman! for I am all on fire,
Impatient of delay,
Can you instruct me what I am to do?
[Sighs.
Undress, and let me lead thee to my Bed.

Ura.
Alas, Sir, what to do? defend me Heav'n!

[Aside.
Ors.
Why, I will hold thee—thus, between my Arms,
—I'll see thee sleep, and wonder at thy form,
—Then wake thee to be gazing on thy Eyes,
—And something more—but yet I know not what.

Ura.
His whole discourse amazes me,
And has more ignorance than madness in't:
—But how shall I get free?

Ors.
Thou grow'st impatient too, come, let us in—

[Goes to take her in; she strives to get free; he struggles with her.
Ura.
Hold off, you are too rude.

Ors.
This is the prettiest play I e'er was at,
But I shall gain the better.—

[Takes her in his arms to carry her off.
Ura.
Help, help.

Enter Amintas in Fetters.
Amin.
A womans voice!—Villain, unhand the Lady.

Ors.
Ha! what new thing art thou?

Amin.
One sent from Heav'n to punish Ravishers.—

[Snatches Ura. while Ors. is gazing on him.
Ors.
Thou'st call'd up an unwonted passion in me,
And these be the effects on't—

[Ors. strikes him: they struggle and fall.
Enter Geron.
Ger.
Hah! what's the matter here? a woman too!
We are undone—Madam, I pray retire—
[Ura. goes into Amin. Apartment.
For here's no safety for your Sex.

Ura.
I gladly take your Counsel.

Ors.
What art thou?

Amin.
That which I seem to be.

Ors.
Then thou'rt a God; for till I saw a woman,
I never saw a thing so fine as thou:
And 'tis but just thou should'st be more than mortal,
That durst command that Creature from my Arms.

Amin.
It is the King—I know it by his Innocence and Ignorance—
[Aside.
—Rise, I beseech you, Sir, and pardon me.

Ors.
Sure I could live a year with looking on thee;
—But where's the Creature call'd it self a Woman?

Ger.
What woman, Sir?

Ors.
Ha! Geron, where's the woman?

Ger.
What do you mean, Sir?

Ors.
The Heavenly woman! that was here but now.

Ger.
I saw none such, nor know I what you mean.

Ors.
Not what I mean? thou could'st not be so dull:
What is't that I have strove for all this while?

Amin.
I'll leave him too, my presence may be hurtful,
And follow the Lady that's fled to my Apartment.

[Amin. Exit.
Ors.
Go, fetch the woman, or by Heaven I'll fling thee into the Sea.

Ger.
I must delude him.

[Aside.
Ors.
Fly, why stayst thou dully here? and bring the woman.

Ger.
Sure you are Frantick.

Ors.
I am so, and thou shalt feel th'effects on't,
Unless thou render back that lovely Creature.

Ger.
Oh! this is perfect madness, Sir, you are lost;
Call back your Noble Temper, and be calm.

Ors.
No, there's a furious Tempest in my soul,
Which nothing can allay but that fine thing.

Ger.
Hear reason yet—no Humane being can get entrance here:
Look round this Castle, and no other Object
Will meet your Eyes, but a watery Wilderness,
And distant and unhabitable Lands:
—What Airy Vision has possess'd your fancy?
For such the Gods sometimes afflict men with.

Ors.
Ha! an Airy Vision!—oh but it cannot be;
By all that's good, 'twas real Flesh and Bloud.

Ger.
And are you sure you were awake?

Ors.
As thou art now.

Ger.
Then 'twas an Apparition.

Ors.
Away,—thou'st often told me of such fooleries,
And I as often did reprove thee for't.

Ger.
From whence, or how should any living thing get hither?

Ors.
It dropt, perhaps, from Heaven, or how I know not;
But here it was, a solid living thing:
You might have heard how long we talk'd together.

Ger.
I heard you talk, which brought me to this place,
And found you struggling on the ground alone:
But what you meant I know not.

Ors.
—'Tis so—I grant you that it was a Vision—
—How strong is Fancy!—yet—it is impossible—
Have I not yet the musick of its words?
Like answering Ecchoes less'ning by degrees,
Inviting all the yielding sense to follow;
Have not my Lips (that fatally took in—
Unrest from ev'ry touch of that fair Hand)
The sweet remains of warmth receiv'd from thence,
Besides the unerring witness of my eyes?
And can all these deceive me? tell me, can they?

Ger.
Most certainly they have.

Ors.
Then, let the Gods take back what they so vainly gave.

Ger.
Cease to offend, and they will cease to punish.

Ors.
But why a Woman? cou'd they secure my Faith
By nothing more afflicting?

Ger.
Shapes divine are most perplexing.
To Souls, like yours, whom terrours cannot fright,
It leaves desires of what it cannot gain,
And still to wish for that—
Is much the greatest torment of the mind.

Ors.
Well said—but Geron, thou'st undone thy aim,
And us'd the onely argument cou'd invite me
T'offend again, that thus I might be punisht:
The Gods themselves invite me to the sin;
Not see'ng a Woman, I ne'er had guilty bin.

[Exeunt.

SCENE the Second.

Enter Amintas in Fetters with Urania.
Amin.
My gallant Maid! this generosity,
Above thy Sex, and much above my merit,
I never can repay: my dear Urania,
Thou didst out-do thy Sex before in beauty,
In all the Charms, that makes 'em so ador'd:
But this last act, this noble mark of Love,
Begets a reverend wonder in my Soul,
And I beheld thee as some sacred thing,
That—this way should be worship'd—

[Kneels and kisses her hand
Ura.
I'm glad you have so kind a sense of that
Which ev'ry Maid that lov'd like me wou'd do:
What cou'd you less expect—ah my Amintas,
That fatal night before our Wedding-day,
Being alarm'd by the Enemy,
And you were sent to try your force with theirs;
My Heart foretold your fate; and that same night
Whose darkness vail'd my blushes all alone,
Drest like a Youth I hasted from the Court,
And being well mounted, soon o'ertook the Army,
When all unknown, I got so neer your person,
That in the fight I had the glory twice
To serve you, when your Horses being kill'd
I still presented you with fresh, whose Riders
Thy Valour had dismounted.

Amin.
Oh Gods! wert thou that boy,
Whom oft I said, I thought was sent from Heaven,
And begg'd t'encouter when the Fight was ended?

Ura.
The same, 'twas all you'd time to say; for after that
Venturing too far, they took you Prisoner.

Amin.
Oh with what shame I look upon your bounty,
Which all my Life's too little to acknowledge:
What follow'd then, my dear fair Urania?

Ura.
I gladly wou'd have been a Prisoner too,
But I appear'd a poor dejected boy,
That was not worth their Fetters:
—Then I resolv'd upon this last adventure,
To make my applications to the Princess,
Knowing her noble nature;
To try (since mighty Ransoms were refus'd)
What simple Love would do, and in my way
I lighted on a Druid, who in's youth
Had liv'd in Courts, but now retir'd to Shades,
And is a little Monarch o'er his Flocks,
To him I told my story, who encourag'd me in my resolv'd design,
And I so luckily have made an interest
In Cleomena's Heart,
These Chains she'as given me freedom to dismiss,
And you must only wear Loves Fetters now:
[She takes off his Chains.
—Come, haste, Amintas, from this horrid place,
And be thy self again, appear in Arms.
The Scythians are encampt within thy view,
And ere three births of Day the Armies meet;
Th'event of which, I at the Druids Cell
Will wait; sending continual Vows to Heaven
For thy dear safety: there when the Fight is done
I wish to meet thee:
—But now your Country and your King expect you,
And I love glory equal to Amintas.

Amin.
But yet the generous bounty of the Princess
Obliges here, no less than duty there;
I know not how the Gods of War to move
To grant me Victor, or the Vanquisht prove;
My Heart to either is not well inclin'd,
Since—vanquisht I am lost, conquering unkind.

[Exeunt.

SCENE the Third.

A Grove.
Enter Thersander, Lysander.
Thers.
Urge it no more, Lysander, 'tis in vain,
My Liberty past all retrieve is lost,
But they're such glorious Fetters that confine me,
I wou'd not quit them to preserve that life
Thou justly sayst I hazzard by my Love.

Ly.
The Scythian Gods defend it!

Thers.
The Gods inspire it, 'tis their work alone:
—I know she is my Enemy, hates Thersander,
Has sent for all the neighbouring Kings for aid,
That hither Artabases and Ismenes
Have brought their powers t'assist her against my Crown:
But what of this? she loves me as Clemanthis,
Which will surmount her hatred to the Scythians:
Oh, my Lysander! didst thou know her Charms,
Thou'dst also know 'tis not a mortal force
That can secure the Heart: She's all Divine!
All Beauty, Wit, and Softness! and she loves!
Already I have found the grateful secret:
She scorns the little Customs of her Sex,
And her belief of being so much above me,
Permits her to encourage my design;
She gives a boldness to my bashful flame,
And entertains me with much liberty.

Ly.
Were all this true, you're equally unhappy;
She must be onely his that conquers you,
That wins your Crown and lays it at her feet.

Thers.
—Love ne'er considers the event of things,
The Path before me's fair, and I'll pursue it;
Fearing no other forces than her Eyes,
Bright as the Planets under which they're born.

Ly.
—And will you let her know you are in love?

Thers.
—If all my sighs, if eyes still fix'd on hers
With languishment and passion will inform her,
I'll let her know my flame, or perish in th' attempt.

Ly.
—Dare you declare it as you now appear?
And can you hope, that under the degree
Of what indeed you are, she will permit it?
And your discovery is your certain ruine.

Thers.
Thy counsel, dear Lysander, comes too late,
She's in the Grove, where now I must attend her,
And see where she approaches.—

Enter Cleomena, Semiris.
Cleo.
The Stranger, say you, grown of late so pensive!
—I must enquire the cause—what if it shou'd be Love?
And that too not for me! hah my Semiris!
That thought has giv'n me pains I never felt:
—Gods! why comes he not? I grow impatient now:
—Say, didst thou bid him wait me in the Grove?

Sem.
Madam, I spoke to him my self.—

Cleo.
And told him I would speak with him!

Sem.
As you commanded me, I said.

Cleo.
It seems he values my commands but little,
Who is so slow in his obedience:
—Where found you him?

Sem.
I'th' Antick Gallery, Madam.

Cleo.
Gallery! what did he there? tell me exactly,
—I have no Picture there.

Sem.
Madam, he was viewing that of Olympia your fair Cousin
But for the excellency of the Work, not Beauty.

Cleo.
Thou art deceiv'd; viewing her Picture, say you?
—Oh thou hast touch'd a tender part, Semiris;
—But yonder's he that can allay my rage,
[Sees Thersander.
And calm me into love by every look.
—Clemanthis, you absent your self too much,
From those to whom your presence is agreeable;
I hear that you are grown retir'd of late,
And visit shady Groves, walk thus—and sigh,
Like melancholy Lovers;—has the Court,
(Who for your entertainment has put on
More gayity than in an Age before)
Nothing that can divert you?—Cease your Ceremony;
[Bows low.
I am your Friend, and if ought harbour there,
Within that sullen Breast, impart it here—
And I'll contribute any thing to ease you.
—Come—boldly tell thy griefs;
I have an interest in thy noble life:
—Perhaps, since you are arriv'd at Court, you've seen
Some Beauty that has made a conquest o'er your Heart;
—Who e'er she be, you cannot fear success.

Thers.
The honours you have heap'd upon your Slave,
Have been sufficient
To have encourag'd any bold attempt;
And here are Beauties would transform a God,
Much more a Souldier, into an amorous shape;
—But I confess, with shame, I brought no Heart
Along with me to Court, and after that
What acceptable Sacrifice can I offer?
This makes me shun the pleasures of your Court,
And seek retirements silent as my griefs.

Cleo.
It seems you were a Lover e'er I saw you,
And absence from your Mistress makes you languish.

Thers.
Ah, Madam, do not ask me many questions,
Lest I offend where I should merit pity.
The boldness may arrive unto her knowledge,
And then you'll lose the humblest of your Creatures,
Whilst, as I am, I may among the crowd
Of daily Worshippers, pay my Devotions.

Cleo.
Give me your hand, we'll walk a little:
[They go and sit down on a Bank
—How do you like this Grove?

Thers.
As I do every place you're pleas'd to bless.
Heaven were not Heaven were Gods not present there;
And where you are, 'tis Heaven every where.

Cleo.
Look Clemanthis—on yonder tuft of Trees,
Near which there is a little murmuring Spring,
From whence a Rivolet does take its rise,
And branches forth in Channels through the Garden;
—'Twas near a place like that—where first I saw Clemanthis.

[Sighing.
Thers.
Madam, be pleas'd to add, 'twas also there
Clemanthis left his Liberty at the feet
Of Divine Cleomena!
And charg'd himself with those too glorious Chains
Never to be dismist but with his Life.

[She rises in anger, he kneels.
Cleo.
How, Clemanthis?

Thers.
Ah! Madam, if I too presumptuous grow,
From your Commands, and all your bounties to me,
You should forgive the pride you do create,
And all its strange effects:
Which if I have mistaken, let me die.
Onely this mercy grant me, to believe,
That if our Adorations please the Gods,
Mine cannot be offensive to my Princes,
Since they are equally Religious.

Cleo.
Stranger—before I punish thy presumption,
Inform me who it is that has offended:
Who giving me no other knowledge of him,
Than what his Sword has done—dares raise his eyes to me?

Thers.
Madam, what you demand is just,
And I had rather die than disobey you;
But I am constrain'd by a necessity
(Which when you know, you certainly will pardon,)
For some time to conceal my birth and name.

Cleo.
Till then, you should have kept your flame conceal'd,
'T had been less disobliging from a criminal one
Whose quality had justifi'd his boldness.

Thers.
Ah! Madam, wou'd Heaven and you wou'd find no other difficulty,
Than want of quality to merit you.

Cleo.
I must confess, Clemanthis, with a blush,
That nothing of the rest displeases me.

Thers.
Ah, Madam, how you bless me!
And now with confidence I dare assure you,
That which should render me more worthy of you,
Shall be in me found more to your advantage,
Than in those Princes who have taken on 'em
The glory of your Service.

Cleo.
As I am very reasonable, and do act
With more Sincerity than Artifice,
I'll now desire no more,
But have a care you use my bounty well;
For I am now grown kind enough to think
That all you say is true.

Thers.
Madam, banish me your presence, as the man
Of all the world unworthy to adore you,
If I present not to you in Clemanthis
A man enough considerable to hope.

Cleo.
But oh! Clemanthis, I forget my fate,
My Destiny depends upon my people:
Urg'd by the Queen, they've made a resolution
To give me to that Prince who does most powerfully
Advance the ruine of the King of Scythia.

Thers.
Madam, I am not ignorant of the Conditions
That are impos'd on those pretend to you;
I will not onely serve you in this War,
With more success than any,
But set the Crown of Scythia on your head.

Cleo.
That's bravely said.

Thers.
Perhaps, it seems extravagantly spoken,
In the condition you behold me now;
But here I vow—I never will demand
[Kneels.
The Divine Cleomena till I have crown'd her—
Yes, Madam, till I have crown'd her Queen of Scythia,
—Till then—give me but hope—enough to live—

[Rises.
Cleo.
That's to your Passion due; and when I know
Who 'tis I favour,—I will more allow.

Sem.
Madam—the Queen is here—

Enter Queen, Honorius, Artabases, Ismenis, Guards, Attendance, &c.
Queen.
I'm glad to see ye all in readiness;
To morrow I intend to be i'th' Camp,
—And Cleomena is your General,
Since 'tis her Cause we fight, it is but just
She share the danger of it with the glory.

Arta.
We all approve it, Madam, and are proud
Fair Cleomena shall a witness be
Of what we do to serve her,
And see the easie Conquest we shall make
Upon the persons of her Enemies.

Hon.
I know not, Sir, what you may do,
But we have found it not so easie.

Arta.
Oh there's no doubt but we'll depopulate Scythia,
And lead its King, with the vain Prince his Son,
Loaden with Irons to adorn your Triumphs.

Thers.
Madam, I must confess your force is great,
And the assistance of these men, considerable;
Yet I advise your Majesty to prepare
For the defeat of the great King of Scythia,
As to a business much more difficult
Than they present it to you; for I know
The Forces of that Nation are not less.
[Looks with scorn on them.
—Consider too, that King was never conquered,
Though these believe to do't with so much ease.
I oft have seen Thersander, that young Prince,
Upon whose Sword Fortune her self depends,
—And I can tell—he's not easily chain'd,
As, Artabazes, you imagine him.

Arta.
What, do you think to fright us with the praises
You give our Enemies?
—I have heard of that King, and of Thersander too;
But never heard of so much Terrour in 'em,
Should make us apprehend an ill success:
—And you, Clemanthis, do not know us well,
To think we'll tremble for the Prince of Scythia,
Though many such as you should take his part.

Thers.
How! many such as I!
[Comes up to his Breast.
Gods! wish your selves no other Enemies
To joyn with that young Prince;
To conquer him and many such as I,
Requires a number of such Kings as You.

Ism.
It is too much, Clemanthis: were you well
Affected to the Service of the Queen,
You would not thus commend her Enemies.

Thers.
Madam, I humbly beg your pardon,
If I have fail'd in the respect I owe you,
By what I've said in favour of your Enemies,
Whom, whilst you think so easily o'recome,
You will neglect that power should make you Victor.

Queen.
'Tis virtue, Sir, that makes you give what's due,
Though to th' advantage of those men you hate—
—I must not have you take ought ill from him—
[To the King.
But as you've all unanimously joyn'd
To assist us in this War, so all embrace,
[Thers. salutes 'em coldly.
Be one, and ever Friends.
Brother, I leave the Conduct of this hopeful Army
[To Hon.
To your unquestion'd care; and if you can,
Oblige this noble Stranger for ever to our service.

Cleo.
Uncle, I'le to the Camp with you;
And you, Clemanthis, must be near me still.

[Thers. bows. All go out but Ther. Hon.
Manent Thers. Hon. Lysander.
Hon.
Clemanthis, you are troubled.

Thers.
I was a little ruffled, but 'tis gone.

Hon.
You should not blame them, Sir, for enjoying you,
A man so young, and such a name in War!

Thers.
That, Sir, is onely your esteem of it.

Hon.
No, dear Clemanthis, that I may declare
To all the world and thee, how much I prize it
Without consulting of your Quality,
I'le make you absolute Master of my Fortune.

Thers.
Heavens! whence this generosity!

[Aside.
Hon.
I have a Daughter, Sir, an onely Child,
Whom all the world esteems a virtuous one,
And for whose love Princes have su'd in vain,
I now with joy wll render you in marriage.

Thers.
I am undone—
It is a Princess, Sir, I much admire,
But never durst behold with eyes of love,
A Maid so much above me.

Hon.
I am a man, whose martial disposition
Renders unartful in my Language,
I cannot study fineness in my words,
But with sincerity declare my heart,
And do propose this Marriage with Olympia
For your advantage and the publick interest,
Besides my own content.

Thers.
Have you considered, Sir, I am below her?

Hon.
No more of that, go visit my Olympia.
She is prepar'd to give you entertainment.

[Hon. Exit.
Thers.
Marry Olympia!
—No—could he with Olympia give the world,
I could not love, nor marry her.
—Oh my Lysander! what evasion now?
—Didst hear the noble offer of the General?

Ly.
I did, great Sir; and what will you return?

Thers.
If I refuse, I must offend the man
To whom of all the world I'm most oblig'd,
And one who knowing me but by my Services,
Offers me what Thersander might accept.

Ly.
'Tis fit you should consult the Princess, Sir,
What 'tis you ought to do.

Thers.
I'le take thy counsel—and wait upon Olympia:
—Yes, I will go visit her, though but to prove
No torment can be like dissembled Love.

[Exeunt.

SCENE the Fourth.

A Chamber.
Enter Queen, Cleomena, Honorius.
Queen.
Is't possible, my Brother, you can have
So great a passion for the publick good?
As willing to sacrifice your Child to its repose,
And make her Arms the soft and easie Chains
To link this gallant stranger to our interest?

Hon.
His virtue I prefer above a Crown.

Cleo.
You should love Virtue as you ought to love it;
Not give it over-measure,—But are you sure he will accept it?

Hon.
I am not certain, being not come so far;
But I propos'd it, and no doubt he lik't it.

Cleo.
This cannot be his malice; for he was ever noble,
[Hon. talks to the Queen.
But false or fain'd, I can endure no more on't;
—By Heaven this Stranger's false! false as his name!
—Semiris found him gazing on her Picture:
—'Tis so—he loves Olympia!
And when I askt the Name of her he lov'd,
I urg'd it with such softness in my eyes,
That he in pity of me swore 'twas I:
—Now can I find how much my Soul's possest
With love, since 'tis with jealousie opprest.

[Goes out.
Queen.
How do you like the Trial of Orsames
Which I intend to make?

Hon.
You'll both oblige your people, and do a Mothers dutie.

Queen.
You know 'twas not the Tyrant in my nature
That from his infancie has kept him ignorant
Of what he was—but the Decrees of Heaven.

Hon.
Madam, 'tis true; and if the Gods be just,
He must be King too, though his Reign be short:
You cannot alter those Decrees of Heaven.

Queen.
The Gods are witness how these eighteen years
I have with much regret conceal'd his birth.

Hon.
You know the last defeat the Scythians gave us,
Th' impatient people broke the Castle-gates,
And against all your powers were ready to have crown'd him;
And should we now be conquer'd, nothing less
Will still the mutinous Army: try him, Madam,
He may be fit for great Impressions,
Had he but good examples to dispose him.

Queen.
I'le have it done to night:
Heaven, if it be thy will, inspire my son
With Virtue fit to wear his Fathers Crown.

[Exeunt.
Scene draws off, discovers Thersander seemingly courting Olympia. Enter Cleomena; sees them, starts, gazes on them, then goes out unseen; and the Scene closes, and changes to her Apartment:—She enters in a rage—
Cleo.
Perfidious man! am I abandon'd then?
[Rage.
Abandon'd for Olympia! my Slave—
—And yet I lov'd him more than I did Heaven—
[Soft.
And shall he quit me thus?
Without being punisht for this Infidelity?
—No, let me be a shame to all my Sex then—
—Oh, Clemanthis! to whom I fondly gave my liberty
When first I saw thee sleeping in the Wood:
—But I grow soft, a passion too unfit
For so much anger as my Soul's possess'd with:
—'Twas but even now, he lov'd me with such Ardor;
And he, who promis'd me the Crown of Scythia,
Dar'st thou become unjust, ungrateful Stranger!
Who having rais'd thy Eyes to Cleomena,
Would sacrifice her to another Mistress:
—This Heart which ought not to've been given away
But by the Services and Bloud of Kings,
How hast thou lost it on a false Unknown,
Without being paid for it one single sigh—
Enter Thersander: She draws a Dagger: offers to kill him; but cannot.
Traitor—hast thou the impudence to appear before me?
Or, dost thou come to meet thy just reward?
[Offers to stab him.
—There's something in his looks that does preserve him,
Or, I'm not truly brave, and dare not kill him:
—Go treacherous Unknown, whom I've preferr'd
Before so many Princes, who in vain
Sue for this credulous Heart which thou'st betray'd.

Thers.
Ah! Madam, can you be thus cruel to me,
And not inform me how I have offended?

Cleo.
Be gon, I say, if thou wou'dst save a life
Which those that dare do evil fear to lose.

Thers.
Those Eyes thus ordered are far worse than death:
End what you have so well begun,
And Kill me:
Yet from anothers hand
The blow would be less cruel.

Cleo.
Oh Impudence!
Still he wou'd cheat my Rage, as he has abus'd my Love;
But, Monster, though thou art below my hand,
I'm yet a Princess, and I can command:
By Heaven I'le try how much rage can invent.
Semiris, call Olympia to me straight;
She shall in triumph with me stand and smile,
To see thee by some common Vassal bleed.

Thers.
There needs no other witness of my death,
But her I have offended:
To you alone I offer up my life: for dying,
I've something to relate may justifie your rage,
Though not deserve your pity.

Cleo.
Hell!
Now I'm confirm'd, he fears that she should see
Him die, lest it should cost her but a Tear:
—Why should I want the strength!—
[Offers to present the Dagger.
—But oh, I cannot:
But canst thou live, false man, and see me frown?

Thers.
No, Madam, I can die—thus—

[Offers to fall on his Sword.
Cleo.
Stay—
Thou shalt not so much glory gain:
No, live, and prove wretched enough to know
[Exit raving.
How very poorly thou hast lost my Heart.

[Thers. gazes after her.
Thers.
Must I then live?—I will obey—Farewel
The fairest and unkindest of thy Sex;
If e're it be thy chance to meet with one
That loves more than Thersander, if thou canst
Treat him worse than thou hast done me—
For oh! how miserable is the wretch, (whose prayer
Repuls'd) like me, lives onely to despair.

[Exit.