University of Virginia Library

ACT the First.

Scene the First.

A Grove neer the Camp.
Enter Pimante alone with Letters.
Pim.

Gone! well, I have never the ill luck, I thank my Stars, to meet
with any of these mighty men of Valour.—

—Vallentio, Noble Colonel!

Enter Vallentio.
Vall.

Pimante! Whe, what the Devil brought thee to the
Camp?

Pim.

Affairs, affairs—

Vall.

They must be wondrous pressing that made thee venture; but the Fighting's
past, and all the Noise over, every man of Fame gone to receive what's due
to his Merit; and the whole Camp looks now like a City in a great Plague, no
stirring—But prithee what's thy business here?

Pim.

Why, I brought Letters from the Queen to that same mighty man of Prowess
—what d'ye call him?

Vall.

The brave Clemanthis?

Pim.

The same—But Colonel, is he indeed so very terrible a thing as Fame
gives out?—but she was ever a notable Wag at History.

Vall.

How dare thy Coward-Thoughts venture upon any thing so terrible as the
remembrance of that Gallant man? Is not his Name like Thunder to thy Ears?
Does it not make thee shrink into thy self?

Pim.

Lord, Colonel, why so hot? 'tis the cursedst thing in the world to be thus
continually us'd to fighting; why how uncivil it renders a man? I speak by way
of Question.

Vall.

Oh! how soft and wanton I could grow in the Description I could make
of him.—

He merits all in Peace as well as War:
Compos'd of Charms would take all Womankind,
As those of's Valour overcome the Men.

Pim.

Well said I'faith, Colonel; but if he be so fine a man, Why did you not
keep him here amongst you to do Execution on the Scythians? for I think e're
long you'll give 'em Battle.

Vall.
The General—whose noble Life he sav'd,
Us'd all his interest with him, but in vain:
He neither cou'd oblige his stay i'th' Camp,
Nor get him to the Court: oh! were his quality
But like his Actions great, he were a man
To merit Cleomena,
Whose Worth and Beauty, as a thing Divine,
I reverence:
But I abhor the feeble Reign of Women;
It foretels the downfal of the noblest Trade—War:
Give me a man to lead me on to Dangers,
Such as Clemanthis is, or as Orsames might have been.

Pim.

Colonel, 'tis Treason but to name Orsames, much more to wish he were us
King.

Vall.
Not wish he were! by all those Gods I will,
Who did conspire 'gainst him in their Oracles.
Not wish him King! yes, and may live to see it.

Pim.

What should we do with such a King? The Gods foretel he shall be fierce
and bloudy; a Ravisher, a Tyrant o're his People; his Reign but short, and so unfit
for Reign.

Vall.

The Gods! I'le not trust them for a days Pay—let them but give one
a taste of his Reign, though but for an hour, and I'll be converted to them.

Pim.

Besides, he is very ill bred for a King; he knows nothing of a world, cannot
dress himself, not sing, nor dance, or plays on any Musick; ne'er saw a Woman,
nor knows how to make use of one if he had her. There's an old fusty Philosopher
that instructs him; but 'tis in nothing that shall ever make a fine Gentleman
of him: He teaches him a deal of Awe and Reverence to the Gods; and tells him
that his natual Reason's sin—But, Colonel, between you and I, he'll no more of
that Philosophie, but grows as sullen as if you had the breeding of him here i'th'
Camp.

Vall.

Thou tell'st me heavenly news; a King, a King again! oh for a mutinous
Rabble that would break the Prison-walls and set Orsames free, both from his Fetters
and his Ignorance.

Pim.

There is a discourse at Court, that the Queen designs to bring him out,
and try how he would behave himself: but I'm none of that Councel; she's like

to make a fine Court on't; we have enough in the Virago her Daughter, who, if it
were not for her Beauty, one would swear were no Woman, she's so given to noise
and fighting.

Vall.

I never saw her since she was a Child, and then she naturally hated Scythia.

Pim.

Nay, she's in that mind still: and the superstitious Queen, who thinks that
Crown belongs to Cleomena—

Vall.

Yes, that was the promise of the Oracle too.

Pim.

Breeds her more like a General than a Woman: Ah how she loves fine
Arms! a Bow, a Quiver; and though she be no natural Amazon, she's capable of
all their Martial Fopperies.

—But hark; what noise is that?

[Song within.
Vall.
'Tis what we do not use to hear.—Stand by.

Enter Urania, drest gay—Lyces a Shepherdess.
Ly.
Still as I sing you sigh.

Uran.
I cannot hear thy Voice, and the returns
The Ecchoes of these shady Groves repeat,
But I must find some softness at my Heart:
—Wou'd I had never known another Dwelling,
But this too happy one where thou wert born.

[Sighs.
Ly.

You sigh again: such things become none but unhappy Maids that are forsaken;
your beauty is too great to suffer that.

Ura.
No Beauty's proof against false perjur'd man.

Ly.
Is't possible you can have lost your Love?

Ura.
Yes, pretty Maid, canst tell me any tidings of him?

Ly.
I cannot tell; by what marks do you know him?

Ura.
Why by these:—A tempting Face and shape:
A Tongue bewitching, soft, and Breath as sweet
As is the welcome Breeze that does restore
Life to man half kill'd with heat before:
But has a Heart as false as Seas in Calms,
Smiles first to tempt, then ruines with its Storms.

Ly.
Oh fair Urania! there are many more
So like your Love, if such a one he be,
That you would take each Shepherd to be he:
'Tis grown the fashion now to be forsworn;
Oaths are like Garlands made of finest Flowers,
Wither assoon as finish'd;
They change their Loves as often as their Scrips,
And lay their Mistresses aside like Ribbons
Which they themselves have sullied.

Pim.
Gad I'll venture in—

Vall.
Fair Women, and so near the Camp!
What are ye, and from whence?

Pim.
Ha! 'tis no matter for that; ask no Questions, but fall to.

[Goes to Lyces.
Ura.
I'm not asham'd to tell thee one or t'other;
I am a Maid, and one of gentle birth,
A Scythian born, and Enemy to thee,
Not as thou art a Man, but Friend to Dacia.

Vall.

What sin have I committed, that so fair a creature should become my Enemy?
but since you are so, you must be my Prisoner, unless your Eyes prevent me,
and make me yours.

Pim.
How, take a woman Prisoner! I hope you're a finer Gentleman than so.

Vall.
But, Madam, do not fear; for I will use you
As well as such a man as I can do.

Ura.
Though thou be'st rough, thou hast a Noble look,
And I believe my treatment will be gentle.

Vall.
Fair Maid, this confidence is brave in thee;
And though I am not used to make returns
Unless in Thunder on my Enemies,
Yet name the way, and I will strive to serve you.

Ura.
Then Sir, I beg not you would set me free,
Nor yet retain me here a Prisoner;
But as thou'rt brave, conduct me to the Castle on the Lake,
Where young Amintas lies, the spoil of War.

Vall.
Amintas, Madam, is a gallant Youth,
And merits more from Fortune than his Chains;
But I could wish (since I have vow'd to serve you.)
You would command me something
Worthy your Beauty and that Resolution.

Ura.
There is no other way to do me service.

Vall.
Then most willingly I will obey you.

Ura.
But, Sir, I beg this Virgin may depart,
Being a Dacian, and a neighbouring Villager.

Vall.
All your Commands shall strictly be obey'd.

Pim.
Pox on her, she's coy, and let her go: Well Colonel
I doubt you'll be for the Queen by and by.

Ura.
Here—take this Jewel as a part of payment
For all thy goodness to an unknown Maid.
[To Lyces.
And if by chance I ever see thee more,
Believe me, Lyces, I will quit the score.

[Exit Lyces weeping.
[Exeunt.

SCENE the Second.

A Grove of Trees.
Within the Scence lies Thersander sleeping, his Cap and Feather at a distance from him.
Enter Cleomena drest like an Amazon with a Bow in her hand, and a Quiver of Arrows at her back, with Semiris attired like her.
Cleo.
I'm almost tired with holding out the chase.

Sem.

That's strange! methought your Highness followed not so fast to day as I
have seen you heretofore.

Cleo.
I do not use to leave the Game unvanquish'd,
Yet now by what strange inclination led
I know not,
The sport growing dull, I wish'd to meet a place.
Far from the noise and business of the day:
Hast thou ti'd fast my Horses?

Sem.
Madam, I have.

Cleo.
What place is this, Semiris?

Sem.
I know not, Madam, but 'tis wondrous pleasant!

Cleo.
How much more charming are the works of Nature
Than the productions of laborious art!
Securely here the wearied Shepherd sleeps,
Guiltless of any fear, but the disdain
His cruel Fair procures him;
How many Tales the Ecchoes of these Woods
Cou'd tell of Lovers if they wou'd betray,
That steal delightful hours beneath their Shades!

Sem.
You'd rather hear 'em eccho back the sound
Of Horns and Dogs, or the fierce noise of War.

Cleo.
You charge me with the faults of Education,
That couzening form that vails the face of Nature,
But does not see what's hid within, Semiris:
I have an Heart all soft as thine, all woman,
Apt to melt down at every tender object:
—Oh Semiris! there's a strange change within me.

Sem.
How, Madam!

Cleo.
I would thou knew'st it;
Till now I durst do any thing—but fear,
Yet now I tremble with the thoughts of telling thee
What none but thou must know—I am in love.

Sem.
Why do you blush, my Princess, 'tis no sin;
But, Madam, who's the happy glorious object?

Cleo.
Why? canst thou not guess then?

Sem.
How is it possible I should?

Cleo.
Oh Gods! not guess the man,
Or, rather think some God! Dull stupid Maid,
Hast thou not heard of something more than mortal?
'Twixt Humane and Divine! our Countries Genius,
Or a young God of War! not heard of him!

Sem.
'Tis not Prince Artabaces, or Ismenes?

Cleo.
Away, thou angerst me.

Sem.
Pardon me, Madam,
It can be none at Court, if none of these;
And all besides are much below that glory.

Cleo.
What call'st thou much below? mistaken thing;
Can a gay name give Virtue, Wit, or Beauty?
Can it gain Conquest, or in Fields or Courts?
No nor defend its own fantastick owner.
—Come, guess again.

Sem.
I can guess no further than a mam, and that I'm sure he is.

Cleo.
I know not—
For yet I never saw him, but in's Character,
Unless sometimes in Dreams.

Sem.
Is't not enough he conquers where he comes,
But that his Fame prevents his Sword and Eyes?
Perhaps his person may not be agreeable;
The best in Camps are not the best in Courts.

Cleo.
So brave a mind must have as brave an out-side.
—My Uncle's Letters from the Camp contain
Nothing but wonders of his worth and valour,
And 'tis impossible but such a man
Must merit Love as well as admiration.

Sem.
Does he not come to Court?

Cleo.
The Queen has made him many invitations;
But he, for some unknown, and cruel cause,
Humbly implores her pardon for refusing,
Nor can the General learn his quality.
But like his deeds, believes it must be great.

Sem.
'Tis most likely; but I should never fall in love with Fame alone.

Cleo.
I hope it is not Love—but strange curiositie
To see this brave Unknown—And yet I fear—
I've hid this new impatience of my Soul,
Even from thee, till it grew too importunate;
And strove by all my lov'd divertisements
To chase it from my Bosom, but in vain!
'Tis too great for little Sports to conquer,
The Musick of the Dogs displeas'd to day,
And I was willing to retire with thee,
To let thee know my story:
And this lone Shade, as if design'd for Love,
Is fittest to be conscious of my crime:
—Therefore go seek a Bank where we may sit,
And I will sigh whilst thou shalt pity me.

[—Stands with her Arms across.
Sem.
See, Madam, what I've found!

[Sem. looks about, finds the Cap and Feathers.
Cleo.
'Tis a fine Plume, and well adorn'd,
And must belong to no uncommon man:
—And look, Semiris, where its Owner lies—
—Ha! he sleeps, tread softly lest you wake him:
—Oh Gods! who's this with so divine a Shape?

Sem.
His Shape is very well.

Cleo.
Gently remove the Hair from off his Face,
[Sem. puts back his hair.
And see if that will answer to the rest:
—All lovely! all surpizing! oh my Heart,
How thou betrayst the weakness of our Sex!
—Look on that Face where Love and Beauty dwells—
And though his Eyes be shut, tell me, Semiris,
Has he not wonderous Charms?

Sem.

Yes, Madam; and I wou'd excuse you if you should now fall in love, here's
substance; but that same Passion for Fame alone, I do not like.

Cleo.
Ah do not call my blushes to my Face,
But pardon all my weakness:
May not my Eyes have leave to gaze a while?
Since after this, there's not another object
Can merit their attention—
—But I'll no longer view that pleasing form—
[Turns from him.
—And yet I've lost all power of removing—
[Turns and gazes.
Even now I was in love with meer Report,
With Words, with empty Noise;
And now that Flame, like to the breath that blew it,
Is vanish'd into Air, and in its room
An Object quite unknown, unfam'd, unheard of
Informs my Soul: how easily 'tis conquered!
How angry am I with my Destiny!
Till now, with much disdain I have beheld—
The rest of all his Sex, and shall I here
Resign a Heart to one I must not love?
Must this be he must kill the King of Scythia?
For I must lay no claim to any other:
Grant, oh ye Gods, who play with Mortals thus,
That him for whom you have design'd your Slave
May look like this Unknown,
And I'll be ever grateful for the bounty;
—But these are vain imaginary Joys.

[Thersander wakes, rises, and gazes.
Thers.
—Am I awake, or do my Dreams present me
Idea's much more bright and conquering
Than e'er approach'd my waking sense by far?
—Sure 'tis Diana, the Goddess of these Woods,
That beauty and that dress confirm me 'tis;
[Kneels.
—Great Goddess, pardon an unlucky Stranger,
The errours he commits 'gainst your Divinity,
Who, had he known this Grove had Sacred been,
He wou'd not have prophan'd it by his presence.

Cleo.
Rise, Sir, I am no Deity,
Or if I were, I could not be offended
[Rises.
To meet so brave a man—Gods, how he looks!

Thers.
Can you be mortal!
What happy Land contains you? or what men
Are worthy to adore you?

Cleo.
I find you are a stranger to this place,
You else had known me to be Cleomena.

Thers.
The Princess Cleomena! my mortal Enemy!

[Aside.
Cleo.
You seem displeas'd at the knowledge of my Name?
But, give me leave to tell you, yours on me
Would have a another sense.

Thers.
The knowledge of your Name has not displeased me;
[Kneels.
But, Madam, I had sooner took you for
The Soveraign of the world than that of Dacia;
Nor ought you to expect less Adoration
From all that world, than those who are born your Slaves;
—And amongst those devout ones number him
Whose happy fate conducted to your Feet,
And who'll esteem himself more fortunate,
If by that little service he had rendred you,
Clemanthis Name have ever reach'd your Ear.

Cleo.
Clemanthis! what cou'd the Gods do more,
[Aside.
To make me ever bless'd!—Rise noble Youth—
[Raises him.
Cou'dst thou salute me Mistriss of the world,
Or bring me news of conquest over Scythia,
It wou'd not reach so kindly to my Soul,
As that admir'd illustrious name of thine:
This Crown's in debt to your all-conquering Sword;
And I'm the most oblig'd to make Returns,
Which if you knew me, sure you would not doubt,
If to those Favours you've already done us,
You'll add one more, and go with me to Court.

Thers.
To th' Court! to th' utmost bounds of all the Universe.
At your command, through dangers worse than Death,
I'd flie with hasty Joy—
Like Gods, do but decree, and be obey'd.

Sem.

Madam, the Company we left are coming this way, and with them Prince
Honorius.

Thers.
The General here so soon!

[Aside.
Enter Honorius, Ismenes, Women and Huntsmen.
Cleo.
Welcome, victorious Uncle.

[Hon. Kisses Cleo.'s hand.
Hon.
Madam, I heard the noise of Horns and Dogs,
And thought your Highness was abroad to day;
Following the cry, it brought me to this Company
Who were in search of you, and 'twas my duty to attend them.
—My gallant Friend Clemanthis here!
This was above my hopes: let me embrace thee,—
And tell thee with what joy I find thee in the presence
Of my fair Niece, who must prevail upon you
To wait on her to Court; what I cou'd not intreat, let her command.

Thers.
Where Duty and my Inclination leads me,
There needs no invitation.

Cleo.
Already, Uncle, he has promis'd it.

Ism.
Sir, is this the man to whom all Dacia is so much obliged?

Hon.
This is that gallant man whose single valour
Has gain'd the Victory over the Nomades,
Who kill'd their King, and scatter'd all their Forces;
And when my feeble strength (which Age and Wars
Had made unfit for mighty Toyls) grew faint,
He, like Æneas, bore my aged Limbs
Through all the fiery dangers of the Battle.

Thers.
Too much you've said to my advantage, Sir,
Robbing the Gods and Fortune of their glory.

Ism.
Rank me amongst your Captives; for I find
Whether you fight, or not, you must be Victor.

[Embraces Thers.
Enter Vallentio, Urania, Pimante: Val. keels, and delivers Urania to the Princess.
Cleo.
What new encounter's this?

Vall.
I need not ask where I should pay my duty;
My wonder will direct me to your feet.

Cleo.
Who knows the man that makes me such a present?

Hon.
Madam, he is an Officer of mine,
A worthy gallant fellow;
But one that hardly knows what Cities are,
But as h'as view'd 'em through their batter'd Walls,
And after joyn'd 'em to your Territories.

Cleo.
Rise, high in her esteem that loves a Souldier.

[He rises.
Vall.
I need say nothing for my Prisoner, Madam,
Whose looks will recommend her: only this,
It was against my will I made her so,
Who ne'er refus'd, till then, to take your Enemies.

Thers.
It is Urania, she'll know me, and betray me.

[Aside.
Cleo.
Say, lovely Maid, whom, and from whence thou art?

Ura.
A Scythian, Madam, and till now your Foe.

Pim.
Aye, Madam, we took her, we took her.

Cleo.
So fair an one must merit my esteem:
I hope there are not many such fine Creatures
Brought into th'Camp against us; if there be,
The Scythians cannot doubt of Victory.
—Thy Name and business here?

Ura.
Urania, Madam—
My story were too tedious for your Ear,
Nor were it fit I should relate it here.
—But 'tis not as an Enemy I come,
'Tis rather, Madam, to receive my doom;
Nor am I by the chance of War betray'd,
But 'tis a willing Captive I am made:
Your Pity, not your Anger I shall move,
When I confess my fault is onely Love:
Love to a Youth who never knew till now
How to submit, nor cou'd to ought but you:
—His Liberty for Ransom you deny;
I dare not say that this is cruelty,
Since yet you may be pleas'd to give me leave
To die with him with whom I must not live.

Thers.
Excellent Maid! what generosity her Love has taught her!

[Aside.
Cleo.
That you esteem me, cruel is unkind,
But faults of Lovers must forgiveness find:
Amintas Chains had far more easie been,
Had he been less a Favourite to his King;
—But you, Urania, may perhaps redeem
That Captive which I wou'd not render them.

Ura.
Madam, this bounty wou'd exceed belief,
But you too generous are to mock my grief:
And when you shall m'unhappy story learn,
'Twill justifie my Tears, and your concern.

Cleo.
I need no Arguments for what I do,
But that I will, and then it must be so.

Ura.
The Prince of Scythia in the Camp of Dacia!
If I could be mistaken in that form,
I'd hate my Eyes for thus deluding me:
But Heaven made nothing but Amintas like him.

[Aside.
Cleo.
Come, let's to Court, by this the Queen expects us:
—You my fair Prisoner must along with me:
[Takes her hand.
—Thy hand, Clemanthis, too—Now tell me, Uncle,
[Takes him with the other hand.
—What Scythian that beholds me thus attended,
Would not repine at my felicity,
Having so brave a Friend, so fair an Enemy.

[Exeunt.