The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Ii Part 48

If she still love _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!

_Ther_. Was't then a secret to my _Cleomena_, That her _Clemanthis_ was the Prince of _Scythia_?

I still believ'd that was his only 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.

_Ther_. 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 a.s.sur'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 Soldier_.

_Sold_. 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.

_Sold_. I know not, Sir, but something of a King I heard them talk of--

_Cleo_. It is _Vallentio_ that has kept his word-- Receive 'em, Sir, as Friends, not Enemies; It is my Brother, who ne'er knew till now Ought of a peopled World.

_King_. I long to see that Monarch, whose Friends.h.i.+p 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.

_Ther_. And 'tis to me a Blessing-- I wanted Confidence to ask of Heaven.

_Enter_ Ors. Val. Hon. Art. Ism. Geron. _Soldiers, &c_. Ors.

_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 Grandure in my Face?

Nothing that speaks me King?

_King_. I do believe thou art that King, and here [_Gives him_ Cleo.

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 Women I e'er 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.

_Qu_. 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.

_Qu_. Heavens! what's this I see, _Clemanthis_ And the Prince of _Scythia_?

_Ther_. Yes, Madam, and a Man that humbly begs The happy t.i.tle 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 the expence of Cruelty; For they will kill as sure, but rightly aim'd; This n.o.ble 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?

[_Kneels_.

_Qu_. My dear _Orsames_, let my Tears make way.

Before I can a.s.sure thee of my Joy.

_Ors_. G.o.ds! how obliging is this kind Concern!

Not all my Pa.s.sion for my fair _Olympia_ Cou'd ever yet betray me to a Tear.

[_Weeps_.

_Qu_. 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 G.o.ds; But now repents her superst.i.tious Error, And humbly begs thy Pardon.

_Ors_. I will, if you'll implore _Olympia_ but to love me.