Chapter X: Act I: SCENE I. A Grove near the Camp

_Enter_ Pimante _with Letters_.

Gone! Well, I have never the Luck, I thank my Stars, to meet with any of these mighty Men of Valour.--_Vallentio_! Noble Colonel.

_Enter_ Vallentio.

_Val. Pimante_! Why, what the Devil brought thee to the Camp?

_Pim_. Affairs, Affairs--

_Val_. 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 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?

_Val_. 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.

_Val_. 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 cursed’st thing in the World to be thus continually us’d to fighting; why, how uncivil it renders a Man! I spake by way of Question.

_Val_. 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’er long you’ll give ‘em Battel.

_Val_. The General, whose noble Life he sav’d, Us’d all his Interest with him, but in vain: He neither could 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_, and much more to wish he were as King.

_Val_. Not wish he were! by all those Gods I will, Who did conspire against 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 bloody, a Ravisher, a Tyrant o’er his People; his Reign but short, and so unfit for Reign.

_Val_. The Gods! I’ll not trust ‘em for a Day’s Pay--let them but give one a taste of his Reign, tho but an hour, and I’ll be converted to them.

_Pim_. Besides, he is very ill bred for a King; he knows nothing of the World, cannot dress himself, nor sing, nor dance, or play 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 ever that shall make a fine Gentleman of him: He teaches him a deal of Awe and Reverence to the Gods; and tells him that his natural Reason’s Sin--But, Colonel, between you and I, he’ll no more of that Philosophy, but grows as sullen as if you had the breeding of him here i’th’ Camp.

_Val_. 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 Counsel, she’s like to make a fine Court on’t; we have enough in the Virago he Daughter, who, if it were not for her Beauty, one would swear were no Woman, she’s so given to Noise and Fighting.

_Val_. 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_--

_Val_. 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_.

_Val_. ‘Tis what we do not use to hear--Stand by.

SONG.

(1.)

_Damon, I cannot blame your Will, ’.was Chance, and not Design, did kill; For whilst you did prepare your Arms On purpose Celia to subdue, I met the Arrows as they flew, And sav’d her from their Harms.

(2.) Alas, she could not make returns. Who for a Swain already turns, A Shepherd, who does her caress With all the softest Marks of Love; And ‘tis in vain thou seek’st to move The cruel Shepherdess.

(3.) Content thee with this Victory, I’m Young and Beautiful as she; I’ll make thee Garlands all the Day, And in the Shades we’ll sit and sing; I’ll crown thee with the Pride o’th’ Spring, When thou art Lord o’th’ May_.

_Enter_ Urania _dress’d gay_, Lyces _a Shepherdess_.

_Ly_. Still as I sing you sigh.

_Uran_. I cannot hear thy Voice, and the returns The Echoes 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 a Man half kill’d with heat before; But has a Heart as false as Seas in Calms, Smiles first to tempt, then ruins with its Storms.

_Ly_. Oh, fair Urania! there are many more So like your Love, if such a one he be: That you wou’d take each Shepherd to be he: ’.is grown the fashion now to be forsworn; Oaths are like Garlands made of finest Flowers, Wither as soon 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--

_Val_. 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 the one or t’other; I am a Maid, and one of gentle Birth, A _Scythian_ born, an Enemy to thee, Not as thou art a Man, but Friend to _Dacia_.

_Val_. 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 are a finer Gentleman than so.

_Val_. 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.

_Val_. Fair Maid, this Confidence is brave in thee; And though I am not us’d 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 that 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.

_Val. 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 of that Resolution.

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

_Val_. Then most willingly I will obey you.

_Ura_. But, Sir, I beg this Virgin may depart, Being a _Dacian_, and a neighbouring Villager.

_Val_. 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. [_Ex_. Lyces _weeping_.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE II. _A Grove of Trees_.

_Within the Scene 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 tir’d 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 to meet a place Far from the noise and business of the Day: Hast thou ty’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 Echoes of these Woods Cou’d tell of Lovers, if they would betray, That steal delightful hours beneath their Shades!

_Sem_. You’d rather hear ‘em echo back the sound Of Horns and Dogs, or the fierce noise of War.

_Cleo_. You charge me with the faults of Education, That cozening Form that veils the Face of Nature, But does not see what’s hid within, _Semiris_: I have a 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! ’.wixt Human and Divine! our Country’s Genius, Our young God of War! not heard of him!

_Sem_. ‘Tis not Prince _Artabazes_, or _Ismenes_?

_Cleo_. Away, thou anger’st 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 Man, 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 Outside. 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 Curiosity 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: ’.is 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 shall pity me.

[_Stands with her Arms across_.
[Sem. _looks about, finds the Cap and Feathers_.

_Sem_. See, Madam, what I’ve found.

_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 surprizing! Oh, my Heart, How thou betray’st 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 wondrous Charms?

_Sem_. Yes, Madam, and I wou’d excuse you, if you shou’d 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 mere 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 conquer’d! 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 ye 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_.

_Ther_. Am I awake, or do my Dreams present me Ideas 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 Errors he commits ‘gainst your Divinity, Who, had he known this Grove had sacred been, He wou’d not have profan’d it by his Presence.

_Cleo_. Rise, Sir, I am no Deity; Or if I were, I cou’d not be offended [_He rises_. To meet so brave a Man--Gods, how he looks!

_Ther_. 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_.

_Ther_. 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 Wou’d have another Sense.

_Ther_. The knowledge of your Name has not displeas’d me; [_Kneels_. But, Madam, I had sooner took you for The Sovereign of the World than that of Dacia; Nor ought you to expect less Adoration From all that World, than those who’re born your Slaves. --And amongst those devout ones number him, Whom 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 Mistress of the World, Or bring me news of Conquest over _Scythia_, It would 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 wou’d not doubt, If to those Favours you’ve already done us, You’ll add one more, and go with me to Court.

_Ther_. To th’ Court? to th’ utmost Bounds of all the Universe. At your Command, through Dangers worse than Death, I’d fly 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_.

_Ther_. 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 for 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.

_Ther_. 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 oblig’d?

_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 Toils) grew faint, He, like _Aeneas_, bore my aged Limbs Through all the fiery Dangers of the Battel.

_Ther_. 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_ Ther.

_Enter_ Vallentio, Urania, Pimante; Vallentio _kneels and delivers_
Urania _to the Princess_.

_Cleo_. What new Encounter’s this?

_Val_. I need not ask where I shall 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 he’as view’d ‘em through their batter’d Walls, And after join’d ‘em to your Territories.

_Cleo_. Rise high in her Esteem that loves a Soldier.
[_He rises_.

_Val_. 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.

_Ther_. 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_. Ay, 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 the 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, ’.is 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 only 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.

_Ther_. 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 easy been, Had he been less a Favorite to his King. --But you, _Urania_, may perhaps redeem That Captive which I would 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, ’.will justify 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_.