Chapter XIII: Act IV: SCENE I. A Flat Wood

_Enter_ Cleomena _drest in_ Clemanthis’s _Clothes_, Semiris
_bearing the Cap and Feather_, Pimante _the Sword_.

_Cleo_. Come, my _Semiris_, you must assist a little, And you, _Pimante_, buckle on my Sword.

_Pim_. I never parted with a Sword so unwillingly in my Life.

_Cleo_. So--How dost thou like me now? Might I not pass, thus habited, for _Clemanthis_?

_Pim_. Yes, Madam, till you come to the fighting part.

_Cleo_. Now go, and do as I have ordered you.

_Sem_. Ah, Madam, though I must not wait on you to fight, I will in Death, ‘tis my first Act, and last of Disobedience. [_Weeps_.

_Cleo_. Do not disturb me with thy Grief, _Semiris_: Go leave me to my self, and Thoughts of Vengeance: And thou, base Traitor-Prince, shalt buy thy Life At such a Rate shall ruin thee for ever; And if I fall--as I believe I shall-- The very Shame to know I am a Woman, Shall make thee curse thy Fortune and thy Arms, If thou hast any Sense of Manhood left, After the barbarous Murder thou hast done: But if my better Fortune guide my Arm, This Arm (whom Love direct) to meet thy Heart, Then I shall die with real Satisfaction. The time draws on when I should try my Fate; Assist me, mighty Love, in my Design, That I may prove no Passion equals mine.

_Sem_. Madam, consider whom you must encounter.

_Cleo_. Consider thou who’s dead, the brave _Clemanthis_! [_Weeps_. Oh, ‘tis a Shame to weep, being thus attir’d; Let me once more survey my self-- And yet I need not borrow Resolution: _Clemanthis_, thou art murder’d, that’s the Word, ’.is that creates me Man, and valiant too, And all incensed Love can prompt me to. Hark--hark--the joyful Summons to my Death. [_Trumpets sound_. Go, leave me to approach it solemnly-- Come, my dear Sword, from thee I must expect That Service which my Arm may fail to affect; And if thou ever did’st thy Master love, Be sure each Stroke thou mak’st may mortal prove.

[_Exeunt severally_.

SCENE II. _Between the two Camps_.

_After a Noise of Trumpets at some distance and fighting,
the Scene draws, and discovers_ Cleomena _and_ Thersander
_fighting_: Lysander. _On one side stands the_ King of Scythia
_with his Party: on the other, the_ Queen of Dacia, Hon.
Artabazes, _and her Party_: Vallentio.

_Ther_. What mak’st thou to fight as if indeed thou wert _Clemanthis_? But since thou art not him thou represent’st, Whoe’er thou be’st, ‘twas indiscreetly done, To draw me from an order might have sav’d thee; --Whois’t that dares assume _Clemanthis’. shape? [_They fight_.

_Cleo_. Unworthy _Scythian_, whose reported Valour Unjustly was admir’d, cou’dst thou believe the covert of the Wood [Cleo. _falls, he stoops to look on her_. Cou’d hide thy Treason--Treason which thou durst own too? [_A cry of Joy on the_ Scythian’s _side_.

_Ther_. Ah! _Cleomena_, is it you? What have I done that could so far transport you? _Clemanthis’. Boldness has incur’d your Hate, But he has been severely punisht for’t; And here in lieu of that unhappy Stranger, Receive _Thersander_ with his equal Passions, But not his equal Crimes.

_Cleo_. Oh, Villain, since thou’st punish’d _Clemanthis_, Punish the unhappy _Cleomena_ too, And take her Life who came to have taken thine.

_Qu_. ‘Tis not _Clemanthis_, but my _Cleomena_-- With whom _Thersander_ fights--ah, cruel Child; [_They carry her off_.

_Ther_. Oh, whither, whither do you bear my Goddess? Return, and here resign your sacred Load, That whilst’t has Life it may behold the Sacrifice That I will make of this wild wretched Man That has so much offended--Disobey’d! --My Arms, my Arms, Lysander, mount me strait, And let me force the disobedient Troops; Those Coward-Slaves that could behold her bleed, And not revenge her on the Murderer: Quickly my Arms, kill, burn, and scatter all; Whilst ‘midst the Ruins of the World I fall.

[_The_ Scythian _Guards carry him off by force.
Enter_ Ismenes _with his Sword. They all descend_.

_Ism_. Still thus defeated and outstript by Fate, Resolv’d betimes, but sallied out too late; Fortune and Love are equally unkind: --Who can resist those mighty Powers combin’d?

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III. _A Prison_.

_Enter_ Orsames, Geron.

_Ger_. May I not know what ‘tis afflicts you so? You were not wont to hide your Soul from me.

_Ors_. Nor wou’d I now, knew I but how to tell thee; Oh, _Geron_, thou hast hitherto so frighted me With thoughts of Death, by Stories which thou tell’st Of future Punishment i’th’ other World, That now I find thou’st brought me to endure Those Ills from Heaven thou say’st our Sins procure. There’s not a little God of all the Number That does not exercise his Arts on me, And practise Power, which by my suffering He grows more mighty in--I’ll not endure it.

_Ger_. Why not, as well as I?

_Ors_. Thou may’st do what thou wilt; but there’s a Difference (As vast as ‘twixt the Sun and lesser Lights) Between thy Soul and mine; Thou canst contented sit whole Days together, And entertain thy Lute, that dull Companion, Till duller Sleep does silence it and thee: But I, whose active Soul despise that drousy God, Can ever dare him in his height of Power: Then when he ties thee to thy lazy Couch, Where thou’rt so far from Sense, thou’st lost thy Soul; Even then, my Geron, my divertive Fancy Possesses me, beyond thy waking Thought-- But, _Geron_, all was but an airy Dream; I wak’d, and found my self a thing like thee.

_Ger_. What was your Dream?

_Ors_. Why, I will try to tell it thee --Methought I saw the Firmament divide, And all the Clouds, like Curtains, draw aside; The Sun in all his Glories, ne’er put on So bright a Ray, nor Heaven with more Lustre shon! The Face of Heaven too bright for mortal Eye Appear’d, and none durst gaze upon’t but I; In Jove’s illustrious Throne I only sat, Whilst all the lesser Gods did round me wait; My Habit, such as cannot be exprest; Iris in all her various Colours drest, The Morning-Sun, nor Sun-declining Sky, Was half so beautiful, so gay, as I. The brightest Stars in all Heaven’s Canopy Were chosen out to make a Crown for me; With which methought they glorify’d my Brow, And in my Hand they plac’d the Thunder too; The World was mine, and thousands such as thou, Still as I moved, low to the Earth did bow; Like thronging Curls upon the wanton Sea, They strove, and were as numerous as they: Thither I soon descended in a Cloud; But in the midst of the adoring Croud, Almighty Woman at my Feet did bow, Adorn’d with Beauties more than Heaven can show: But one among the rest (for there were store) Whilst all did me, I did that one adore; She did unking me, and her wondrous Eyes Did all my Power and Thunder too despise; Her Smiles could calm me, and her Looks were Law; And when she frown’d, she kept my Soul in awe. Oh, _Geron_, while I strive to tell the rest, I feel so strange a Passion in my Breast, That though I only do relate a Dream, My Torments here would make it real seem.

_Ger_. ‘Tis lucky that he takes it for a Dream. [Aside. --Pray do not form Ideas in your Fancy, And suffer them to discompose your Thoughts.

_Ors_. In spite of your Philosophy, they make A strange Impression on me.

_Ger_. That’s perfect Madness, Sir.

_Ors. Geron_, I will no longer be impos’d upon, But follow all the Dictates of my Reason. --Come tell me, for thou hast not done so yet, How Nature made us; by what strange Devices. Tell me where ‘twas you lighted on me first; And how I came into thy dull Possession? Thou say’st we are not born immortal, And I remember thou wert still as now, When I could hardly call upon thy Name, But as thou wouldst instruct my lisping Tongue; And when I ask’d thee who instructed thee, Thoud’st sigh, and say a Man out-worn by Age, And now laid in the Earth--but tell me, Geron, When time has wasted thee, for thou’rt decaying, Where shall I find some new-made Work of Nature, To teach those Precepts to, I’ve learnt of thee? --Why art thou silent now?

_Ger_. You ought not, Sir, to pry into the hidden Secrets of the Gods.

_Ors_. Come, tell not me of Secrets, nor of Gods-- What is’t thou studiest for, more new Devices? Out with ‘em--this Sulleness betrays thee; And I have been too long impos’d upon. I find my self enlightened on a sudden, And ev’ry thing I see instructs my Reason; ’. has been enslav’d by thee--come, out without it.

_Ger_. I dare not, Sir.

_Ors_. Who is’t thou fear’st?

_Ger_. The Anger of the Gods, Who will not have their high Decrees reveal’d, Till they themselves unfold ‘em in their Oracles.

_Ors_. What are those Oracles?

_Ger_. Heavenly Voices, Sir, that expound what’s writ In the Eternal Book of Destiny.

_Ors_. I’ll know what’s writ in that eternal Book, Or let thee know what it contains of thee.

_Ger_. What will you do?

_Ors_. Throw thee into the Sea; by Jupiter, I will.
[_Offers to take him up_.

_Ger_. Stay, _Orsames_-- ’.is true, I have Commands from _Cleomena_, But yet the Time is hardly ripe for the Design. [_Aside_.

_Ors_. Begin your Story--or, by Heaven--

_Ger_. I shall--When you consider who I am, With how much Care and Toil I’ve brought you up; How I have made my aged Arms your Cradle, And in my Bosom lull’d you to your rest; How when you wept, my Tears kept time with yours, And how your Smiles would dry again those Showers; You will believe ‘tis my Concern for you, And not your Threats, makes me declare a Truth.

_Ors_. Forward, my dearest _Geron_, Whilst I as silent as a healthy Sleep, As growth of Flowers, or motion of the Air, Attend each long’d-for Syllable thou breath’st.

_Ger_. Be pleas’d to walk into the Garden, Sir, And there I’ll tell you Wonders to ensue; But first, great Sir, your Pardon for the past. [_Kneels_.

_Ors_. I give it thee--Gods, this is fine indeed! Thy Language and thy Mien are altered. Oh, how my Soul’s inlarg’d already! go, lead the way.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE IV. _The_ Scythian _Tents_.

_Enter_ Thersander, Lysander.

_Ther_. Leave me, I will be calm, [_Exit_ Lysander. For this same change of _Cleomena’s_ Habit Has but increas’d my Love--and all my Softness-- ’.was in that Habit that I left _Amintas_. Gods! has he betray’d me then? No, I must not have so mean a Thought of him; ’.is certain that she knows I am _Thersander_-- But if the bold _Clemanthis_ be _Thersander_, Son to the Enemy of _Cleomena_; Yet still ‘tis that _Clemanthis_ that ador’d her, And whom she once made happy with her Love. But I have wounded her, and here remain [_Draws his Sword_. The Marks of my Dishonour in her Blood. Oh cruel Instrument of my shameful Crime! Must the first Service thou hast render’d me Prove to my Soul so fatal? That Sword I left _Amintas_, Wou’d have deny’d Obedience to this Hand, This sacrilegious Hand drew it against her.

_Enter_ King.

_King_. How now, _Thersander_, what, still melancholy? Upon the first Appearance of your Sadness, I thought’t had been for fighting with a Woman; But now I fear that could not be the Cause, Unless ‘twere fortify’d by stronger Passions-- ’.is not impossible, but when you saw The Eyes of _Cleomena_ in the Combat They might disarm your Rage, and teach you Love. If this be all, I’ll offer Peace in such a time As they’re not able to make War against us, And with it Propositions of a Marriage.

_Ther_. Happy Mistake! Great Sir, I’ll not deny the Eyes of _Cleomena_ Have given me Wounds which nothing else can cure; And in that Moment when I would have kill’d her, They staid my guilty Hand, and overcame The shameful Conqueror-- I’ll say no more, nor give Laws to your Bounty; But if your Majesty approve my Flame, I shall receive her as the greatest Blessing Heaven can bestow upon me.

_King_. I’m glad to find my Son of my Opinion; For I have already propos’d it to ‘em, Which I believe they will with Joy embrace.

_Ther_. All but the lovely Princess, whose Aversion Is still so great against our Family, That I despair she ever will be drawn to’t.

_King_. They’ll hardly rally up their routed Forces To make fresh War upon us; they’re at our Mercy now, And as an Honour will embrace the Alliance.

_Ther_. Pray Heaven they may.

_King_. If they refuse I will recall my Mercy, And make them dearly buy their Scorn; Come, we expect our Herald from their Tents.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE V. Cleomena’s _Apartments_.

_Enter_ Queen, Cleomena _in a Night-Gown_, Semiris.
A Table with Pen and Ink.

_Cleo_. Madam, I confess my self unworthy of your Tenderness.

_Qu_. Ah, _Cleomena_! you value my Repose at too cheap a Rate, When you expose a Life so dear to me To so much Danger, as to fight _Thersander_.

_Cleo_. I am not the first Person of my Sex Has drawn a Sword upon an Enemy; Do you not say he is my Father’s Murderer? And does he not deprive me of that Crown, You say the Gods have destin’d me to wear?

_Qu_. ‘Tis true, he’s Son to him that kill’d thy Father; But bating that, he has committed nothing But what wou’d rather cause esteem than hate.

_Cleo_. Pardon me, Madam, if I am forc’d to say, My Sentiments cannot correspond with yours.

_Qu_. What think you of a Husband in this Prince?

_Cleo_. How, Madam, marry _Thersander_!

_Qu_. The King has generously offered it; My Council do approve it, and the Army Cannot contain their Joy for the blest News.

_Cleo_. Gods! let the Council and the Army perish, E’er I lose one single Moment of my Satisfaction; Is this the Hate which with my Milk you made me suck For all that Race? is this th’ Effect of my fierce Education?

_Qu_. All things must be preferr’d to th’ Publick Good, When join’d with my Commands.

_Cleo_. What you command, I dare not disobey: But, Madam, I beseech you do not claim That cruel Duty here.

_Qu_. You’ll find it fit to change that peevish Humour, And I will leave you to consider of it. [_Exit_.

_Cleo_. Gods! marry me, marry me to _Thersander_! No, not whilst this--remains in my Possession; [_Pulls out a dagger_. --I must confess it is a generous Offer; How came it in their Souls?

_Sem_. Madam, perhaps Love has inspir’d it.

_Cleo_. Hah, Love--that Miracle may be; When I reflect upon the Prince’s words, When he had vanquish’d me--I do not doubt it; Then he confess’d he had a Passion for me; I wonder at the sudden Birth of it--

_Sem_. Madam, your Eyes make Captives at first sight.

_Cleo_. Oh my dear Eyes, how shall I love ye now, For wounding more than my dull Sword could do? ’.was Anger and Revenge that gave ye Charms, Only to help the weakness of my Arms; And when my Woman’s Courage feeble grew, My Heart did kindly send its Aids to you. And thou, _Thersander_, surely canst not blame My Cruelty, who do allow thy Flame: Love on, love on; and if thou dost despise All other ways, I’ll kill thee with my Eyes.

_She sits down, and writes_. _Enter_ a Page.

_Page_. Madam, there is without an Officer Who bad me tell your Highness that he waits.

_Cleo_. Admit him--and, Page, give you this Letter to the Queen.

_Sem_. Madam, it is _Vallentio_ whom you sent for.

_Enter_ Vallentio.

_Cleo_. _Vallentio_, I believe thee brave and honest.

_Val_. Madam, the last I dare affirm.

_Cleo_. Tell me, _Vallentio_, didst thou ever love?

_Val_. Madam, your Interest, my Arms, and a brave Enemy.

_Cleo_. But didst thou never feel a softer Passion?

_Val_. Madam, I own, though with a Blush I do so, I’ve felt the Power of two fair Eyes; And I have Wounds that yet would bleed afresh, Should but the cruel Murderess appear.

_Cleo_. Then thou art fit to hear a Secret from me; --But first, _Vallentio_ tell me who I am.

_Val_. My Princess, Madam, and my General; And one, who from your Power of Beauty holds No less Dominion o’er th’ adoring World, Than from the Greatness you were born to.

_Cleo_. And you’re contented I should be your Queen?

_Val_. Madam, I am--_Pimante_ has been prating. [_Aside_.

_Cleo_. The Army too are of your mind.

_Val_. I cannot answer for the Army, Madam.

_Cleo_. But--what think you of _Orsames_?

_Val_. Madam, I think he merits to be King In any other World but where you reign.

_Cleo_. And what if I would have him King of this?

_Val_. Why then he shall be King, if you would have it so.

_Cleo_. Yes, I would have it, by my self I would; This is the time to let the Monarch know The Glories he was born to; Nor can I die in Peace till he be crown’d. [_Aside_. I’ll have this Nation happy in a Prince, A Prince they long in silence have bemoan’d, Which every slight occasion breaks out loud, And soon will raise them up to a Rebellion, The common People’s God on Holy-days. --And this, _Vallentio_, I have often observ’d; And ‘tis an Act too humble for my Soul, To court my self into security.

_Sem_. Madam, the Gods do disapprove his Reign, Which they not only say shall be but short, But Bloody and Tyrannick.

_Cleo_. I will expound that Oracle, Which Priests unridling make more intricate: They said that he should reign, and so he did, Which lasted not above a pair of Hours. But I my self will be his Oracle now, And speak his kinder Fate, And I will have no other Priest but thee, [_To_ Vallentio. Who shall unfold the Mystery in plain terms.

_Val_. Madam, the City and the Army are, by this Defeat, Enough inclin’d to hear that Reason.

_Cleo_. _Geron_ already has Instructions what to do, And you need none, wanting no Resolution.

_Val_. If I miscarry, Madam, I’ll be condemn’d, Never to look my Foe i’th’ Face again.

_Cleo_. Haste, and be prosperous--

[_Exit_. Val.

_Semiris_, are those Garments ready I spoke for?

_Sem_. Madam, they’re here--but now what will you do?

_Cleo_. Now, I will die--and now thou know’st my Will.

_Sem_. Ah, Madam, ‘tis too much you let me know, Denying me t’ attend you where you go, With such a Guide I cannot err.

_Cleo_. Alone I’ll go, the Journey is not far In passing; though I miss the aids of Day, Yet my _Clemanthis_ lights me on my way. Why dost thou weep? indeed thou art unkind.

_Sem_. I weep because you’d leave me here behind; Doubting my Love, I beg you wou’d permit That I might give you the last proof of it. I in your last adventure was too slow, And will not be deny’d my Duty now.

_Cleo_. Thou show’st a Soul so generous and free, That I’m contented thou shou’dst follow me; Come, dry thy Eyes, such helps we do not need; To ease our Griefs, we must not weep but bleed.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE VI. _A Street_.

_Enter_ Vallentio _passing over the Stage, is met by a
Rabble of Citizens_.

_1 Cit_. Well, Colonel, have you delivered our Grievances to the Queen?

_Val_. Yes, I have.

_1 Cit_. Well, and what Success? shall we have a King?

_Val_. And why a King? why should you be thus earnest for a King? what good will a King do you? he’s but a single Man, cannot redeem the lost Victory, cannot raise up your dead Members, no, nor levy new ones.

_1 Cit_. That’s all one, Colonel, we will have a King: for look ye, Colonel, we have thought of a King, and therefore we will have one. Hah, Neighbours! a substantial Reason.

_All_. Ay, ay, a King, a King.

_Val_. I like your Resolution, but not your Reason; and must have a better than that.

_1 Cit_. ‘Sha, Sir, we can give you many, though that’s sufficient; as look you, Sir, ‘tis first a new thing to have a King--a thing--a thing--we have not been acquainted with in our Age: besides, we have lost the Victory, and we are very angry with some body, and must vent it somewhere. You know, Colonel, we have busy Heads, working Brains, which must be executed; therefore, what say you, are we to have leave to shut up Shop, and go to work with long Staff and Bilbo, or are we to be very mutinous, and do’t in spite of you?

_Val_. You shall not need; go, shut up your Shops, gather your Fellow-mutineers together, and meet me at the Citadel; but be sure you’re well arm’d, lest the Queen’s Guards prevent you.

_1 Cit_. I warrant you for honest true Hearts enough at any mischief, though not to go against the _Scythians_; for, Colonel, we love Civil Wars, Colonel, Civil Wars.

_Val_. Make haste, and then I’ll shew you my Orders for the King’s Deliverance.

_Cit_. Oh, incomparable Colonel! we will raise thy Statue in Brass in the Market-place, and worship it when we have done--but harkye, Colonel, are we to give no Quarter?

_Val_. None to those that oppose you.

_All_. No, no, none, none.

_Cit_. Oh, how this will please ye all, my Mates--

[_Citizens goes out.
Enter_ Pimante.

_Pim_. Oh, Colonel, the Princess, Colonel.

_Val_. Well, Sir.

_Pim_. She’s fled away, and none knows whither.

_Val_. I left her in her Tent just now.

_Pim_. Ay, ay, Colonel, that’s all one, she’s gone just as she shou’d have been married too--there’s the Devil on’t! Oh, the Days we shou’d have seen! the dancing, loving Days!

_Val_. Gone alone?

_Pim_. No, no, that dissembling thing _Semiris_ is with her; she only left a Letter for the Queen, which she has sent to the Prince of _Scythia_. Oh, adieu, adieu, to Love and Musick. [_Goes out crying_.

_Val_. This is strange--if she be gone, ‘tis time the King were free--I’ll haste to meet the Rabble, that it may not look like an act of my own. [_Exit_.

SCENE VII. Thersander’s _Tent_.

_He enters with a Letter in his Hand open--with
Attendants_.

_Ther_. Be gone, I’ll read the Letter o’er again, [_Exeunt Attendants_. And here impress thy Cruelty, and see what that will do To set me free. _Ther_. reads the Letter-- _Finding it impossible to obey your unkind Commands, I am fled, and do resolve never to marry that_ Barbarian, _whose Crimes are only known to me; no, nor any other that cannot bring me his Head; whereto sollicite_ Artabazes, _and_ Ismenes, if they will obey_. Cleomena.

If I consult my Reason and my Courage, They say I should not love this cruel Maid. But oh, my Reason, you’re weak to counsel; I’ll think of nothing else but dying for her, Since ‘tis my Life she asks, and here demands it. But ‘tis in vain to arm my happy Rivals, For I my self can more devoutly serve you. ’.is I will pierce this unaccepted Heart, Whose Flames are found so criminal--

_Enter_ Lysander.

_Lys_. Sir, there’s without a Youth that desires admittance.

_Ther_. From whom comes he?

_Lys_. He would not tell me that, but has a Letter, Which he’ll deliver only to your Highness.

_Ther_. Bring him in, it may be from _Amintas_.

_Enter_ Cleomena _drest like a Country-Shepherd, comes
bowing to him, gives him a Note_.

_Ther_. reads to himself-- Guard thee well, _Thersander_; for thou shalt die by the Hand that brings thee this.

[_She stabs him; he falls into_ Lysander’s _Arms_.

_Cleo_. Here’s to thee, dear _Clemanthis_--

_Lys_. Help, Treason, help--

_Ther_. Ah, lovely Youth, who taught thee so much cruelty? And why that Language with that angry Blow?

_Cleo_. Behold this Face, and then inform thy self.
[_Discovers her self_.

_Ther_. ‘Tis _Cleomena_! oh ye Gods, I thank ye! It is her Hand that wounds me, And I’ll receive my Death with perfect Joy, If I may be permitted but to kiss That blessed Hand that sent it.

_Enter_ King _and Guards_.

_King. Thersander_ murder’d! oh, inhumane Deed! Drag the Traitor to a Dungeon, till we have Invented unheard of Tortures to destroy him by-- [_The Guards seize_ Cleo. _and_ Sem. _who was just entring_. My Wounds are deep as thine, my dear _Thersander_; Oh, fatal Day, wherein one fatal Stroke. Has laid the Hopes of _Scythia_ in his Tomb!

_The Guards go to carry_ Cleo. _and_ Sem.
Ther. _calls ‘em back_.

_Ther_. Oh, stay, and do not bear so rudely off Treasures you cannot value. --Sir,--do not treat her as my Murderer, But as my Sovereign Deity-- Instead of Fetters, give her Crowns and Scepters; And let her be conducted into Dacia, With all the Triumphs of a Conqueror. For me, no other Glory I desire, Than at her Feet thus willingly to expire.

[_Goes to throw himself at her Feet, they prevent it and go off_.