The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Ii Part 42

_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 l.u.s.tre shon!

The Face of Heaven too bright for mortal Eye Appear'd, and none durst gaze upon't but I; In Jove's ill.u.s.trious Throne I only sat, Whilst all the lesser G.o.ds 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 Pa.s.sion 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 G.o.ds.

_Ors_. Come, tell not me of Secrets, nor of G.o.ds-- 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; 'T 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 G.o.ds, 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_-- 'Tis 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--G.o.ds, 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-- 'Twas in that Habit that I left _Amintas_.

G.o.ds! has he betray'd me then?

No, I must not have so mean a Thought of him; 'Tis 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 Pa.s.sions-- 'Tis 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.