University of Virginia Library

ACT the Fifth.

Scene the First.

A Council-Table: the King of Scythia seated on a Throne, Officers Attendands, and Guards.
King.
Bring the fair Prisoner forth, and let's examine
What Reasons could inspite her with this cruelty?
—How beautiful she is!

[Gazes on her.
Enter Cleomena, in Fetters, Lysander with the Guard.
Cleo.
Thy silence seems to license me to speak,
And tell thee King that now our faults are equal;
My Father thou hast kill'd, and I thy Son;
This will suffice to tell thee who I am:
—Now take my Life since I have taken his,
And thou shalt see I neither will implore
Thy needless Clemency by word or sign:
But if my Birth or Sex can merit ought,
Suffer me not to languish any longer
Under these shameful Irons.

[With scorn.
King.
Cruel as fair, 'tis with too much Injustice
Thou sayst our Crimes are equal;
For thou hast kill'd a Prince that did adore thee;
And I depriv'd thy Father of his life
When he assaulted mine in open field,
And so, as cannot leave a stain on thee,
Or give the Cause to say I've done thee wrong.
But if I had, wherefore (oh cruel Maid)
Didst thou not spare that Heart that di'd for thee,
And bend thy Rage against thy Father's Foe?
But thou well knew'st in killing of Thersander,
The Fathers life would quickly follow after.

Cleo.
I will not seek excuses for my actions,
But I protest to thee before the Gods,
It was not to revenge my self on thee
I kill'd thy Son;
But what he suffered was for his own sin,
For he has banisht from me all on earth
That could compleat my happiness—
[Weeps.
—And now dispose my destiny as you please,
Only remember that I am a Woman.

King.
What thou hast said will find but little credit:
—But yet—Thersander lives;
And if it please the Gods to spare that life,
I shall have generosity enough
To set thee free in favour of thy Sex
And my Thersanders love.

Cleo.
Not dead! why should the Gods protect him?

King.
Her Soul is sure possest with some despair:
Madam, I doubt you need not fear his life,
He will obey and die as you desire—
[Weeps.
But now with satisfaction till he see you
Conducted into Dacia.
I should not of my self have been so generous
T' have given you freedom with the life of him
Who did deserve a kinder destiny;
But 'tis his will,—and possibly his last,
Therefore you're free, and may depart this Camp
Whene'er you please; onely this favour grant,
(If an unhappy King may hope for any)
You'll suffer him to take his last farewell.

Weeps.
Cleo.
Immortal Gods! how can it be? a man
Whose wickedness arm'd me against his life,
Shou'd shew such virtue in the rest of's Actions!
—Sir, I will see the Prince,
Not as the price of what you offer'd me,
But that he may confess he did deserve
A death less glorious than I have given him:
And I shall take it well if he will own
That which may justifie my offence to you.

King.
Madam, I thank you—
—Dismiss her Fetters, and if she please
Let her have Garments suitable to her Sex,
Onely the Guards attend her at a distance.

[Go out severally.

SCENE the Second.

The Grove.
Enter Amintas drest like a Shepherd, Urania like a Shepherdess, the Druid, Lyces, and other dancing Swains, &c.
Druid.
Sir, I'm afraid you made too bold a venture;
And though your wounds were more numerous than dangerous,
I am not willing you should trust 'em to the Air.

Amin.
Father, your skill has wrought a perfect Cure,
For which, the life you sav'd you shall command.

Ura.
Me too h' has cur'd of all my jealous fears,
By this eternal Knot 'twixt thee and me
Which he has has tied, and Fate can ne'er undo:
—Farther—to you I owe Amintas liberty;
To you his Life: and now for all my joys,
Which if my future service can repay,
Command with freedom her you have preserv'd.

Amin.
Come, dear Urania, let's hasten to the Camp;
For I impatient grow to see my Prince:
Heaven knows what my mishap may have procur'd him.

Ura.
How loth I am to leave these pretty Shades,
The Gods and Nature have design'd for love:
Oh, my Amintas, wou'd I were what I seem,
And thou some humble Villager hard by,
That knew no other pleasure than to love,
To feed thy little Herd, to tune a Pipe,
To which the Nymphs should listen all the day;
We'd taste the waters of these Chrystal Springs,
Which more delight than all delicious Wines;
And being weary, on a bed of Moss,
Having no other Canopie but Trees,
We'd lay us down and tell a thousand stories.

Amin.
For ever so I'd be content to dwell;
I wou'd put off a frightful marks of War,
And wou'd appear as soft and calm to thee,
As are thy Eyes when silently they wound.
An Army I wou'd quit to lead thy Flock,
And more esteem a Chaplet wreath'd by thee,
Than the victorious Lawrel:
—But come, Love makes us idle.

Druid.
My Prayers ever go along with you;
And your fair Bride, Urania, I could wish
My youth and vigour were as heretofore:
When onely Courts and Camps could make me happy,
And then I wou'd not bid farewel so soon—
To so much virtue as I've found in you.

Amin.
I humbly thank you Father, for a goodness
That shames my poor returns.
Come pretty Lyces, and thou honest Damon,
With all the rest of our kind train;
Let's hasten to the Camp, during this Truce
Your little Rustick sports will find a welcome.

Ura.
There are no Women in the Camp, my Lord.

Amin.
No matter, thou canst not hate a Souldier,
Since I am one: and you must be obedient,
And learn to bear my Bow and Arrows now.
It is the duty of a Scythians Wife.

Ura.
She that can claim Amintas by such ties,
May find a safety wheresoe'er she flies.

[Exeunt.

SCENE the Third.

A Prison.
Enter Orsames joyful, and Geron.
Ors.
Am I indeed a King?
And is there such a thing as fair Olympia?
Hadst thou not been the first had told me this,
By Heaven thou'dst di'd for thus concealing it;
Not all the obligations of my Youth
Should have preserv'd thee.

Ger.
Till now I wanted opportunity;
For had you known your quality before,
You would have grown impatient of the Crown,
And by that haste have overthrown your Interest.

Ors.
And canst thou now provide against my ignorance!

Ger.
Sir, we have gain'd the Army on our side.

Ors.
What's that?

Ger.
Those numbers that I told you should adore you.

Ors.
When shall I see them, Geron?

Ger.
E'relong, Sir: should your deliverance
Be wrought by any other means than theirs,
It were to snatch a glory from their hands
Which they design their onely recompence.

Ors.
Oh how I am transported with the Joy!
But Geron, art thou sure we do not dream?

Ger.
Then life it self's a Dream—
—Hark, I here a noise—

[Noise.

Within.
Kill the Dog—down with him.

Ors.
Oh how I'm ravisht with this unknown noise!


Within.
Break down the Prison-walls and Gates, and force your passage—

Enter Vallentio followed by a Rabble of Citizens and Officers, tearing in the Keeper all bloudy.
Vall.

No killing to day, my Fellow-souldiers, if you can help it; we will not
stain our Tryumphs in bloud—

[They all stand and gaze. Ors. gazes on them.
Ye Gods instruct me where to bow my Knee—
But this alone must be the Deity—

[Kneels. Ors. lets him kneel, and gazes on him.
1 Cit.
Is that the King, Neighbour, in such mean Clothes?

Gorel.
Yes, goodman Fool, why should the Colonel kneel else?

3 Cit.

Oh pray Neighbour let me see a little, I never saw a King all days of
my life—Lord, Lord! is that he the Colonel kneels to?

Gorel.

What questions this ignorant fellow asks!

3 Cit.

Good lack a day, 'tis as a man may say—'tis just such another body as
one of us, onely he looks a little more terrably.

Ger.
Sir, why do you let him kneel?

Ors.
Rise, and let me look upon thee.

Vall.
Great Sir, we come to offer you a Crown,
That long has waited for this great support:
It ought t' have been presented
In a more glorious order,
But time and your affairs permit not that.
A thousand dangers wait upon delay;
But though the World be yours, it is not safe
Depending on a fickle multitude
Whom Interest and not Reason renders just.

Ors.
Thou art a wondrous man!

1 Cit.

Good Gorel, stand back, and let me see a little: my Wife loves newalties
abominationly, and I must tell her something about the King.

Gorel.
What a pox have we to do with your Wife? stand back.

Vall.
Now daign, great Sir, to arm your hand with this—
[Gives Ors. a Sword, he gazes on it.
Nay, view it well, for though it be but homely,
It carries that about it can make the wearer proud;
—an edge—pray feel it, Sir,—'t has dealt
Many a mortal wound—
See how it dares the Sun for brightness, Sir;
Or if there be a stain, it is an ornament
Dy'd in the bloud of those that were your Enemies:
It never made a blow or thrust in vain.
—How do you like it, Sir?

Ors.
So well, I know not whether this or thee
Be most agreeable to me:
You need not teach me how I am to use it,
That I will leave for those that dare offend me.
Look Geron, is it not a glorious object?
There's nothing but my bright Olympia's eyes
That can out-glitter this.

1 Cit.
Hah Simon, did he not talk bravely?

Vall.
Come, Sir, 'tis time you left this Dungeon for a Throne;
For now's the time to make the world your own.


All shouting
—Vive le Roy, Vive le Roy.

[Exeunt.

SCENE the Fourth.

A Tent.
Enter Cleo. and Semiris drest as women again.
Sem.
Dear Madam, I could wish you'd sleep a while.

Cleo.
That peace I have not been acquainted with
Since my Clemanthis death;
Yet now methinks my Heart's more calm and still,
And I perhaps may thus expire in silence—
—Prithee, Semiris, take thy Lute and sing to't,
Whilst I will trie to sleep—
[Lies down on a Couch, Sem. plays and sings.
SONG made by J. Wright Esq;

[Cleo. rises as in a Dream.
Return, my dear Clemanthis, oh return,
And see 'tis not into thy lov'd bosom
That I have sent my vengeance.

Sem.
What mean you, Madam?

Cleo.
But thou, poor Ghost—
Instead of hasting me to my revenge,
Endeavour'st to touch me with Compassion.

Sem.
Madam, who is't you follow thus and speak to?

Cleo.
Thersander, why dost rob me of that face?
Is't to disarm me of my indignation?

Sem.
Oh, Madam, what do you do?

Cleo.
Ha! dost thou see nothing?

Sem.
Not any thing.

Cleo.
Yonder's the Scythian with Clemanthis Face,
Or else Clemanthis with Thersander's Wound.

Sem.
Compose your thoughts, dear Madam, 'twas a dream,
And idle dream, born from a troubled fancie:
—How was it, Madam?

Cleo.
Methought I saw Clemanthis,
As when he was most charming to my Soul,
But pale and languishing, having a Wound
Like that I gave his Murtherer:
To which with one of his hands he seem'd to point;
The other stretching out with passionate actions,
And gazing on me,—thus methought he spoke:
—See how you recompence my faithful sufferings,
—See the performance of your promises;
Look on this Wound which you have given my Heart,
That Heart that still ador'd you—
And yet you're not content with all these cruelties,
Though even in your anger and my death,
I still continue faithful and submissive.
—Thus spoke the lovely Phantome.

Enter Pimante.
Pim.
Madam, there waits without a Servant to the Prince.

Cleo.
He may come in—

Enter Lysander.
Lys.
Madam, my dying Prince begs you may know
How willingly he does obey your will,
And dying still implores you wou'd believe
He's guilty of no fault but having lov'd you,
For which presumption he deserves to die;
—But 'tis not by your Dagger, but your Eyes:
That was too weak to exercise your will,
Your cruelty had power alone to kill;
And now one visit from you he implores,
And after that he'l trouble you no more.

[Weeps.
Cleo.
That I will grant to satisfie the King.

Lys.
When he is dead—
He'll send the Spirit of Clemanthis to you,
Who shall upbraid you with your cruelty,
And let you see, in wounding of Thersander,
You found the readiest way to kill Clemanthis.

Cleo.
What means he by these words?

Lys.
He humbly begs you'll pardon the rough treatment
You've had among the Scythians,
Whose Crown, he says, Clemanthis promis'd you,
And he intreats you would accept from him.

Cleo.
To send the Spirit of Clemanthis to me—
How this agrees with my sad dream!
How did thy Master know—
Clemanthis promis'd me the Crown of Scythia—
[Advances towards Lysander, and she starts.
—Sure I have seen that Face before—
—Art not Lysander, Page to Clemanthis?

Lys.
Madam, I am, and ever serv'd that Master.

Cleo.
How could'st thou then come near his Enemy?

Lys.
Madam, it was by his command I came.

Cleo.
How! could Clemanthis love his Murtherer?
It is no wonder then that generous Spirit
Came while I slept and pleaded for the Prince.

Lys.
What means the Princess?

Enter Pimante.
Pim.
Oh Madam, I have news to tell you that will
Make you forswear ever fighting again.

Cleo.
What mean you?

Pim.
As I was passing through a street of Tents,
I saw a wounded man stretcht on the ground;
And going, as others did, to learn his Fate,
I heard him say to those that strove to help him,
Alas, my Friends, your succours are in vain;
For now I see the Gods will be reveng'd
For brave Clemanthis murther.
How! cri'd I out, Are you then one of those
Thersander sent to kill that Cavalier?
Thersander, cry'd he, had no hand in't;
But Artabazes set us on to kill him.
Here he began to faulter in his speech:
And sure he spoke the truth; for 'twas his last.

Cleo.
This looks like truth: Thersander's every action
Declar'd too much of virtue and of honour,
To be the Author of so black a deed.
—Tell him, I'll visit him, and beg his pardon.
[To Lysander, who bows and goes out.
—Generous Thersander, if this news be true,
My Eyes shall spare some drops for injuring you.

[Exeunt.
Scene changes to Thersander's Tent, he in a Night-gown sitting on a Couch; by him the King, Officers, Attendants to them. Enter Cleomena, Semiris, Pimante, Lysander. The King rises to meet Cleo. and seats her in a Chair by him.
Cleo.
Thersander, I am come to beg thy pardon,
If thou art innocent, as I must believe thee,
And here before the King to make confession
Of what I did refuse the Queen my Mother.
—Know then, I lov'd! and with a perfect passion,
The most unfortunate of men, Clemanthis.
His Birth I never knew, but do believe
It was Illustrious, as were his Actions;
But I have lost him by a fatal accident,
That very day he should have fought with you.

[Weeps.
Thers.
Gods! where will this end?

[Aside.
Cleo.
But e're the fatal moment of his death,
Ismenis beg'd to know who did the Murther,
But he could answer nothing but Thersander,
And we believ'd it you:
Then Love and my Revenge made me a Souldier;
—You know the rest—
And doubtless you've accus'd me with Ingratitude.

Thers.
No, I shall ne'er complain of Cleomena,
[He kneels before her.
If she still loves Clemanthis.

Cleo.
There needs no more to make me know that Voice:
Oh stay, this joy too suddenly surprizes—
[Ready to swound.
—Gently distil the bliss into my Soul,
Lest this excess have the effects of grief:
—Oh, my Clemanthis! do I hold thee fast?
And do I find thee in the Prince of Scythia?

King.
I lose my Reason by this strange encounter!

Thers.
Was't then a secret to my Cleomena,
That her Clemanthis was the Prince of Scythia?
I still believ'd that was his onely crime.

Cleo.
By all my joys I knew it not—but sure
This is enchantment; for it is as certain
These Eyes beheld thee dead.

Pim.
Ay, and so did I, I'll be sworn.

Thers.
That must be poor Amintas in my dress,
Whose story when you know, you will bemoan.

Cleo.
But oh my life! the cruel wound I gave thee
Let me be well-assur'd it is not mortal,
Or I am lost again.

King.
The Surgeon gives me hopes; and 'twere convenient
You should forbid him not to speak too much—

Enter a Souldier.
Sould.
Arm, arm, great Sir, I think the Enemy
Is rallying afresh, for the Plain is cover'd with numerous Troops,
Which swiftly make this way.

King.
They dare not break the Truce.

Sould.
I know not, Sir, but something of a King I heard 'em talk of—

Cleo.
It is Vallentio that has kept his word—
Receive 'em, Sir, as Friends, not Enemies;
It is my Brother, who ne're knew till now.
Ought of a peopled World.

King.
I long to see that Monarch, whose friendship I must
Court for you, fair Princess:
If you'll accept Thersander whom I offer'd,
I do not doubt an happy peace on both sides.

Cleo.
Sir, 'tis an honour which we ought to sue for.

Thers.
And 'tis to me a blessing—
I wanted confidence to ask of Heaven.

Enter Orsames, Vallentio, Honorius, Artabazes, Ismenis, Souldiers, &c. Orsames drest gay with a Truncheon in his hand, advances first, is met by the King; who gaze on each other.
Ors.
If thou be'st he that art Orsames Enemy,
I do demand a Sister at thy hands.

King.
Art thou Orsames?

Ors.
So I am call'd by all that yet have view'd me:
—Look on me well—
Dost see no marks of grandeur in my face?
Nothing that speaks me King?

King.
I do believe thou art that King, and here
[Gives him Cleomena.
I do resign that Sister thou demandest.

Ors.
It is a Woman too! another Woman!
I wou'd embrace thee, if I durst approach thee.

Cleo.
You need not fear, you may embrace your Sister—

[Cleo. embraces him.
Ors.
This is the kindest woman I e're saw.

Cleo.
Brother, behold this King no more your enemy,
Since I must pay him duty as a Father.

Enter Queen, Olympia, Women.
Ors.
Hah, Olympia! sure 'tis an airy vision—

Ger.
Approach her, Sir, and try.

Queen.
Permit a wretched Mother here to kneel.

King.
Rise, Madam, and receive me as your friend;
This pair of Lovers has united all our Interests.

[Points to Cleo. and Thers.
Queen.
Heavens! what's this I see, Clemanthis
And the Prince of Scythia?

Thers.
Yes, Madam, and a man that humbly begs
The happy Title of your Son—Honorius,
Of you I ask the greatest pardon—

[Talks to Olympia.
Ors.
I am a King, and do adore thee too,
And thou shalt rule a World with me, my fair;
A Sword I'll give thee, with a painted Bow,
Whence thou shalt shoot a thousand gilded Arrows.

Olym.
What to do, Sir?

Ors.
To save th' expence of Cruelty;
For they will kill as sure, but rightly aim'd:
This noble Fellow told me so.

[To Val.
Olym.
Sir, I'll do any thing that you will have me:
But now the Queen your Mother, Sir, expects you.

Ors.
Instruct my Eyes, Olympia; for 'tis lately
I've learnt of some such thing.

Olym.
This, Sir,—you ought to kneel to her.

Ors.
Must I then kneel to ought but heaven and thee?

Queen.
My dear Orsames, let my Tears make way,
[Kneels.
Before I can assure thee of my joy.

Ors.
Gods! how obliging is this kind concern!
Nor all my passion for my fair Olympia
Cou'd ever yet betray me to a Tear.

[Weeps.
Queen.
Thou'st greater need of Anger than of Tears,
Having before thy Eyes thy worst of Enemies,
One that has long depriv'd thee of a Crown,
Through what she thought her duty to the Gods;
But now repents her superstitious errour,
And humbly begs thy pardon.

Ors.
I will, if you'll implore Olympia but to love me.

Queen.
I will, my Orsames; and 'tis the onely present
I can make to expiate my fault.

Ors.
And I'll receive her as the onely thing
Can make me both a Subject and a King.
Oh Geron, still if this should prove a Dream!

Ger.
Sir, Dreams of Kings are much less pleasant.

Enter Lysander.
Lys.
Sir, there are without some Shepherdesses
Who say they wou'd present you
Something that will not be unwelcome to your Highness.

[To Thers.
Thers.
Let them come in—
They seat themselves. Enter Amintas, Urania masks, Shepherds, Shepherdesses, followed with Pipes or Wind-Musick. They dance; after which Amin. kneels to the Prince, Ura. to the Princess.
—My dear Amintas, do I find thee live!
Fortune requites my sufferings
With too large a share of happiness.

Amin.
Sir, I do live to die again for you.

Thers.
This, my Divine, was he who had
[To Cleo.
The glory to be bewail'd by you; for him you wept,
For him had almost dy'd.

Amin.
That Balm it was, that like the Weapon-salve
Heals at a distance—

Cleo.
But why, Amintas, did you name Thersander
When you were askt who wounded you?

Amin.
Madam, if loss of bloud had given me leave,
I wou'd have told him how I came so habited,
And who I was, though not how I was wounded.

King.
Still I am in a mist, and cannot see the happy path I tread.

Thers.
Anon we will explain the mystery, Sir.

Hon.
Now great Orsames, 'tis but just and fit
That you receive the Rites of Coronation,
Which is not to be paid you in a Camp;
The Court will add more to that joyful day.

King.
And there we'll joyn our Souls as well as Swords,
Our Interests as our Familes.

Ors.
I am content that thou should'st give me Laws:
Come, my Vallentio, it shall ne'er be said
I recompenc'd thy services
With any thing less grateful than a Woman:
—Here, I will chuse for thee—
And when I know what 'tis I more can do,
If there be ought beyond this gift, 'tis thine.

[Gives him Sem.
Thers.
Scythia and Dacia now united are:
The God of Love o'recomes the God of War.

After a Dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses, the Epilogue is spoken by Mrs. Bary, as a Nymph; at his R. H. second exile into Flanders.