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 sawThe Eyes ofCleomenain the CombatThey might disarm your Rage, and teach you Love.If this be all, I’ll offer Peace in such a timeAs 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 ofCleomenaHave 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 overcameThe 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 BlessingHeaven 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.
EnterQueen, Cleomenain 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 fightThersander.
Cleo. I am not the first Person of my SexHas 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, marryThersander!
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 suckFor 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 toThersander! 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 blameMy Cruelty, who do allow thy Flame:Love on, love on; and if thou dost despiseAll other ways, I’ll kill thee with my Eyes.
She sits down, and writes.Entera 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 isVallentiowhom you sent for.
EnterVallentio.
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,Vallentiotell me who I am.
Val. My Princess, Madam, and my General;And one, who from your Power of Beauty holdsNo 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—Pimantehas been prating. [Aside.
Cleo. The Army too are of your mind.
Val. I cannot answer for the Army, Madam.
Cleo. But—what think you ofOrsames?
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 knowThe 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, [ToVallentio.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.Geronalready 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 farIn passing; though I miss the aids of Day,Yet myClemanthislights 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 permitThat 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.
EnterVallentiopassing 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 theScythians; 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. EnterPimante.
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 thingSemirisis with her; she only left a Letter for the Queen, which she has sent to the Prince ofScythia. 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.
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 thatBarbarian,whose Crimes are only known to me; no, nor any other that cannot bring me his Head; whereto solliciteArtabazes,andIsmenes, 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—
EnterLysander.
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 fromAmintas.
EnterCleomenadrest 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 intoLysander’sArms.
Cleo. Here’s to thee, dearClemanthis—
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. ‘TisCleomena! 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 kissThat blessed Hand that sent it.
EnterKingand Guards.
King. Thersandermurder’d! oh, inhumane Deed! Drag the Traitor to a Dungeon, till we have Invented unheard of Tortures to destroy him by— [The Guards seizeCleo.andSem.who was just entring. My Wounds are deep as thine, my dearThersander; Oh, fatal Day, wherein one fatal Stroke. Has laid the Hopes ofScythiain his Tomb!
The Guards go to carryCleo.andSem.Ther.calls ‘em back.
Ther. Oh, stay, and do not bear so rudely offTreasures 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.
A Council-Table: TheKing of Scythiaseated on a Throne, Officers, Attendants, Guards.
King. Bring the fair Prisoner forth, and let’s examine What Reasons could inspire her with this Cruelty; —How beautiful she is! [Gazes on her.
EnterCleomenain Fetters, Lysander,with Guards.
Cleo. Thy Silence seems to license me to speak,And tell thee, King, that now our Faults are equal;My Father thou hast kill’d, and I thy Son;This will suffice to tell thee who I am.—Now take my Life, since I have taken his,And thou shalt see I neither will imploreThy needless Clemency by any Word or Sign:But if my Birth or Sex can merit ought,Suffer me not to languish any longerUnder these shameful Irons.[With scorn.
King. Cruel as Fair, ‘tis with too much injusticeThou say’st our Crimes are equal:For thou hast kill’d a Prince that did adore thee;And I depriv’d thy Father of his Life,When he assaulted mine in open Field,And so, as cannot leave a stain on thee,Or give thee Cause to say I’ve done thee wrong,But if I had, wherefore (oh, cruel Maid)Didst thou not spare that Heart that dy’d for thee,And bend thy Rage against thy Father’s Foe?But thou well know’st, in killing ofTkersander,The Father’s Life would quickly follow after.
Cleo. I will not seek excuses for my actions,But I protest to thee before the Gods,It was not to revenge my self on theeI kill’d thy Son;But what he suffered was for his own Sin,For he has banish’d from me all on EarthThat could compleat my Happiness—[Weeps.—And now dispose my Destiny as you please,Only remember that I am a Woman.
King. What thou hast said will find but little credit:—But yet ifThersanderlives,And if it please the Gods to spare that Life,I shall have Generosity enoughTo set thee free in favour of thy Sex,And myThersander’sLove.
Cleo. Not dead? Why should the Gods protect him?
King. Her Soul’s possest with some despair.Madam, I doubt you need not fear his Life,He will obey, and die as you desire— [Weeps.But not with Satisfaction, till he see youConducted intoDacia.I should not of my self have been so generous,T’ have given you freedom with the Life of himWho did deserve a kinder Destiny;But ‘tis his Will—and possible his last.Therefore you’re free, and may depart this CampWhene’er you please; only this favour grant,(If an unhappy King may hope for any)You’ll suffer him to take his last farewel.
Cleo. Immortal Gods! how can it be? a ManWhose Wickedness arm’d me against his Life,Shou’d shew such Virtue in the rest of’s Actions.—Sir, I will see the Prince,Not as the Price of what you offer’d me,But that he may confess he did deserveA Death less glorious than I have given him:And I shall take it well if he will ownThat which may justify my Offence to you.
King. Madam, I thank you—Dismiss her Fetters, and if she please,Let her have Garments suitable to her Sex,Only the Guards attend her at a distance.
[Go out severally.
EnterAmintas,drest like a Shepherd, Uranialike a Shepherdess, the Druid, Lyces,and other dancing Swains, &c.
Druid. Sir, I’m afraid you have made too bold a venture; And though your Wounds were more numerous than dangerous, I am not willing you should trust ‘em to the Air.
Amin. Father, your Skill has wrought a perfect Cure, For which, the Life you sav’d you shall command.
Ura. Me too h’ has freed of all my jealous Fears,By this eternal Knot ‘twixt thee and meWhich he has tied, and Fate can ne’er undo.—Father—to you I owe _Amintas’. Liberty—To you his Life; and now for all my Joys,Which if my future Service can repay,Command with Freedom her you have preserv’d.
Amin. Come, dearUrania, let’s hasten to the Camp; For I impatient grow to see my Prince; Heaven knows what my Mishap may have procur’d him.
Ura. How loth I am to leave these pretty Shades,The Gods and Nature have design’d for Love:Oh, myAmintas, wou’d I were what I seem,And thou some humble Villager hard by,That knew no other pleasure than to love,To feed thy little Herd, to tune a Pipe,To which the Nymphs should listen all the Day;We’d taste the Waters of these Crystal Springs,With more delight than all delicious Wines;And being weary, on a Bed of Moss,Having no other Canopy but Trees,We’d lay us down, and tell a thousand Stories.
Amin. For ever so I’d be content to dwell,I wou’d put off all frightful Marks of War,And wou’d appear as soft and calm to thee,As are thy Eyes when silently they wound.An Army I wou’d quit to lead thy Flock,And more esteem a Chaplet wreath’d by thee,Than the victorious Laurel.—But come, Love makes us idle.
Druid. My Prayers ever go along with you,And your fair Bride,Urania.—I cou’d wishMy Youth and Vigour were as heretofore,When only Courts and Camps cou’d make me happy;And then I wou’d not bid farewel so soonTo so much Virtue as I’ve found in you.
Amin. I humbly thank you, Father, for a GoodnessThat shames my poor Returns.Come, prettyLyces, and thou, honestDamon,With all the rest of our kind Train;Let’s hasten to the Camp, during this Truce,Your little rustick Sports will find a welcome.
Ura. There are no Women in the Camp, my Lord.
Amin. No matter, thou canst not hate a Soldier,Since I am one; and you must be obedient,And learn to bear my Bow and Arrows now,It is the Duty of aScythian’sWife.
Ura. She that can claimAmintasby such Ties, May find a Safety wheresoe’er she flies.
[Exeunt.
EnterOrsamesjoyful, andGeron.
Ors. Am I indeed a King?And is there such a thing as fairOlympia?Hadst thou not been the first had told me this,By Heaven, thou’dst dy’d for thus concealing it;Not all the Obligations of my YouthShould have preserv’d thee.
Ger. Till now I wanted Opportunity;For had you known your Quality before,You wou’d have grown impatient of the Crown,And by that Haste have overthrown your Interest.
Ors. And canst thou now provide against my Ignorance?
Ger. Sir, we have gain’d the Army on our side.
Ors. What’s that?
Ger. Those Numbers that I told you should adore you.
Ors. When shall I see them,Geron?
Ger. E’er long, Sir: should your DeliveranceBe wrought by any other Means than theirs,It were to snatch a Glory from their Hands,Which they design their only Recompence.
Ors. Oh, how I am transported with the Joy! But,Geron, art thou sure we do not dream?
Ger. Then Life it self’s a Dream— Hark, I hear a noise— [Noise.
Within] Kill the Dog—down with him!
Ors. Oh, how I’m ravisht with this unknown Noise!
Within.] Break down the Prison-Walls and Gates, and force your Passage—
EnterVallentio,followed byGoreland a Rabble ofCitizens and Officers, tearing in the Keeper all bloody.
Val. No killing to day, my Fellow-Soldiers, if you can help it; we will not stain our Triumphs in Blood— [They all stand and gaze. Ors.gazes on them. Ye Gods, instruct me where to bow my Knee— But this alone must be the Deity—
[Kneels, Ors.lets him kneel, and gazes on him.
1 Cit. Is that the King, Neighbour, in such mean Clothes?
Gorel. Yes, Goodman Fool, why should the Colonel kneel else?
2 Cit. Oh, pray, Neighbour, let me see a little, I never saw a King in all the days of my Life. Lord, Lord! Is that he the Colonel kneels to?
Gorel. What Questions this ignorant Fellow asks!
3 Cit. Good lack-a-day, ‘tis as a Man may say—’tis just such another Body as one of us, only he looks a little more terrably.
Ger. Sir, why do you let him kneel?
Ors. Rise, and let me look upon thee.
Val. Great Sir, we come to offer you a Crown,That long has waited for this great Support;It ought to have been presented in a more glorious order,But Time and your Affairs permit not that.A thousand Dangers wait upon Delay;But though the World be yours, it is not safeDepending on a fickle Multitude,Whom Interest, and not Reason renders just.
Ors. Thou art a wondrous Man.
1 Cit. GoodGorel, stand back, and let me see a little; my Wife loves Newalties abominationly, ami I must tell her something about the King.
Gorel. What a Pox have we to do with your Wife? stand back.
Val. Now deign, great Sir, to arm your Hand with this—[GtvesOrs.a Sword, he gazes on it.Nay, view it well, for though it be but homely,It carries that about it can make the Wearer proud;—An Edge—pray feel it, Sir,—’t has dealtMany a mortal Wound—See how it dares the Sun for Brightness, Sir!Or if there be a Stain, it is an Ornament,Dy’d in the Blood of those that were your Enemies:It never made a Blow or Thrust in vain.—How do you like it, Sir?
Ors. So well, I know not whether this or theeBe most agreeable to me;You need not teach me how I am to use it,That I will leave for those that dare offend me.Look,Geron, is it not a glorious Object?There’s nothing but my brightOlympia’sEyesThat can out-glitter this.
1 Cit. Hah,Simon, did he not talk bravely?
Val. Come, Sir, ‘tis time you left this Dungeon for a Throne; For now’s the time to make the World your own. All shouting—Vive le Roy, Vive le Roy.
[Exeunt.
EnterCleomenaandSemiris,drest as Women again.
Sem. Dear Madam, I cou’d wish you’d sleep awhile.
Cleo. That Peace I have not been acquainted with Since my _Clemanthis’. Death; Yet now methinks my Heart’s more calm and still, And I perhaps may thus expire in silence— Prithee,Semiris, take thy Lute and sing to’t, Whilst I will try to sleep. [Lies down on a Couch, Sem. plays and sings.
SONG, made byJ. WrightEsq:
_Fair Nymph, remember all your ScornWill be by Time repaid;Those Glories which that Face adorn,And flourish as the rising Morn,Must one day set and fade.Then all your cold Disdain for meWill but increase Deformity,When still the kind will lovely be.Compassion is of lasting Praise;For that’s the Beauty ne’er decays.
Fair Nymph, avoid those Storms of FateAre to the Cruel due;The Powers above, though ne’er so late.Can be, when they revenge your Hate,As pitiless as you.Know, charming Maid, the Powers divineDid never such soft Eyes designTo wound a Heart so true as mine:That God who my dear Flame infus’d,Will never see it thus abus’d_.
Return, my dearClemanthis, oh, return,[Cleo.rises as in a Dream.And see ‘tis not into thy lovely BosomThat I have sent my Vengeance.
Sem. What mean you, Madam?
Cleo. But thou, poor Ghost— Instead of hasting me to my Revenge, Endeavour’st to touch me with Compassion.
Sem. Madam, who is’t you follow thus and speak to?
Cleo. Thersander, why do’st rob me of that Face? Is’t to disarm me of my Indignation?
Sem. Oh, Madam, what do you do?
Cleo. Ha! dost thou see nothing?
Sem. Not any thing.
Cleo. Yonder’s theScythianwith _Clemanthis’. Face, Or elseClemanthiswithThersander’sWound.
Sem. Compose your Thoughts, dear Madam, ‘twas a Dream, An idle Dream, born from a troubled Fancy. —How was it, Madam?
Cleo. Methought I sawClemanthis,As when he was most charming to my Soul,But pale and languishing, having a WoundLike that I gave his MurdererTo which with one of’s Hands he seem’d to point;The other stretching out with passionate Actions,And gazing on me,—thus methought he spoke:—See how you recompense my faithful Sufferings,—See the performance of your Promises;Look on this Wound which you have given my Heart,That Heart that still ador’d you:And yet you’re not content with all these Cruelties,Though even in your Anger and my Death,I still continue faithful and submissive.—Thus spoke the lovely Phantom.
EnterPimante.
Pim. Madam, there waits without a Servant to the Prince.
Cleo. He may come in.
EnterLysander.
Lys. Madam, my dying Prince begs you may knowHow willingly he does obey your Will,And dying still implores you wou’d believeHe’s guilty of no fault but having lov’d you,For which presumption he deserves to die;—But ‘tis not by your Dagger, but your Eyes:That was too weak to exercise your Will,Your Cruelty had power alone to kill;And now from you one visit he implores,And after that he’ll trouble you no more. [Weeps.
Cleo. That I will grant to satisfy the King.
Lys. When he is dead—He’ll send the Spirit ofClemanthisto you,Who shall upbraid you with your Cruelty,And let you see, in wounding ofThersander,You’ve found the readiest way to killClemanthis.
Cleo. What means he by these Words?
Lys. He humbly begs you’ll pardon the rough treatmentYou’ve had among theScythians,Whose Crown, he says,Clemanthispromis’d you,And he intreats you would accept it from him.
Cleo. To send the Spirit ofClemanthisto me— How this agrees with my sad Dream! How did thy Master know—Clemanthispromis’d me the Crown ofScythia?— [Advances towardsLys.and she starts. —Sure I have seen that Face before— Art notLysander, Page toClemanthis?
Lys. Madam, I am, and ever serv’d that Master.
Cleo. How couldst thou then come near his Enemy?
Lys. Madam, it was by his Command I came.
Cleo. How couldClemanthislove his Murderer? It is no wonder then that generous Spirit Came while I slept, and pleaded for the Prince.
Lys. What means the Princess?
EnterPimante.
Pim. Oh, Madam, I have news to tell you that will Make you forswear ever fighting again.
Cleo. What mean you?
Pim. As I was passing through a Street of Tents,I saw a wounded Man stretcht on the ground;And going, as others did, to learn his Fate,I heard him say to those that strove to help him,Alas, my Friends, your Succours are in vain;For now I see the Gods will be reveng’dFor brave _Clemanthis’. Murder.How! cry’d I out, are you then one of thoseThersandersent to kill that Cavalier?Thersander, cry’d he, had no hand in it;ButArtabazesset us on to kill him.Here he began to faulter in his Speech;And sure he spoke the truth, for ‘twas his last.
Cleo. This looks like Truth.Thersander’severy Action Declar’d too much of Virtue and of Honour, To be the Author of so black a Deed. —Tell him, I’ll visit him, and beg his pardon. [ToLys.who bows and goes out. —GenerousThersander, if this News be true, My Eyes shall spare some drops for injuring you.
[Excunt.
He in a Night-gown sitting on a Couch; by him theKing,Officers, Attendants to them. EnterCleomena, Semiris,Pimante; Lysander;theKingrises to meetCleo.andseats her in a Chair by him.
Cleo. Thersander, I am come to beg thy pardon,If thou art innocent, as I must believe thee,And here before the King to make confessionOf what I did refuse the Queen my Mother.—Know then, I lov’d, and with a perfect Passion,The most unfortunate of Men,Clemanthis.His Birth I never knew, but do believeIt was illustrious, as were all his Actions;But I have lost him by a fatal accident,That very day he should have fought with you.[Weeps.
Ther. Gods! where will this end? [Aside.
Cleo. But e’er the fatal moment of his Death,Ismenesbeg’d to know who did the Murder: But he could answer nothing butThersander, And we believ’d it you. Then Love and my Revenge made me a Soldier; —You know the rest— And doubtless you’ve accus’d me with Ingratitude.
Ther. No, I shall ne’er complain ofCleomena, [He kneels before her. If she still loveClemanthis.
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, myClemanthis! do I hold thee fast? And do I find thee in the Prince ofScythia?
King. I lose my Reason by this strange encounter!
Ther. Was’t then a secret to myCleomena, That herClemanthiswas the Prince ofScythia? 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 poorAmintasin 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 assur’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 isVallentiothat has kept his word—Receive ‘em, Sir, as Friends, not Enemies;It is my Brother, who ne’er knew till nowOught of a peopled World.
King. I long to see that Monarch, whose Friendship IMust court for you, fair Princess:If you’ll acceptThersanderwhom 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.
EnterOrs. Val. Hon. Art. Ism. Geron.Soldiers, &c. Ors.drest gay with a Truncheon in his Hand, advances first, is met by theKing,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 thouOrsames?
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 himCleo. 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.
EnterQueen, 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 toCleo.andThers.
Qu. Heavens! what’s this I see,ClemanthisAnd the Prince ofScythia?
Ther. Yes, Madam, and a Man that humbly begs The happy Title of your Son—Honorius, Of you I ask the greatest Pardon— [Talks toOlympia.
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 noble Fellow told me so. [ToVal.
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 dearOrsames, let my Tears make way. Before I can assure thee of my Joy.
Ors. Gods! how obliging is this kind Concern! Not all my Passion for my fairOlympiaCou’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 Gods;But now repents her superstitious Error,And humbly begs thy Pardon.
Ors. I will, if you’ll imploreOlympiabut to love me.
Qu. I will, myOrsames; and ‘tis the only Present I can make to expiate my Fault.
Ors. And I’ll receive her as the only thing Can make me both a happy Subject and a King. Oh,Geron, still if this should prove a Dream!
Ger. Sir, Dreams of Kings are much less pleasant.
EnterLysander.
Lys. Sir, there are without some Shepherdesses, Who say they wou’d present you [ToTher. Something that will not be unwelcome to your Highness.
Ther. Let them come in—
They seat themselves. EnterAmin. Ura.maskt, Shepherds, Shepherdesses, followed with Pipes, or Wind-Musick. They dance; after whichAmin.kneels to the Prince, Ura.to the Princess.
—My dearAmintas, do I find thee live?Fortune requites my SufferingsWith too large a share of Happiness.
Amin. Sir, I do live to die again for you.
Ther. This, my Divine, is he who had [ToCleo. The Glory to be bewail’d by you; for him you wept; For him had almost dy’d.
Amin. That Balm it was, that like the Weapon-salve Heals at a distance—
Cleo. But why, Amintas, did you nameThersander, When you were askt who wounded you?
Amin. Madam, if loss of Blood had given me leave, I wou’d have told you how I came so habited, And who I was, though not how I was wounded.
King. Still I am in a mist, and cannot see the happy path I tread.
Ther. Anon we will explain the Mystery, Sir.
Hon. Now, greatOrsames, ‘tis but just and fitThat you receive the Rites of Coronation,Which are not to be paid you in a Camp;The Court will add more to that joyful Day.
King. And there we’ll join our Souls as well as Swords, Our Interests as our Families.
Ors. I am content that thou should’st give me Laws:Come, myVallentio, it shall ne’er be saidI recompense thy ServicesWith any thing less grateful than a Woman:—Here, I will chuse for thee—And when I know what ‘tis I more can do,If there be ought beyond this Gift, ‘tis thine.[Gives himSem.
Ther. ScythiaandDacianow united are: The God of Love o’ercomes the God of War.After a Dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses, the Epilogue is spoken by Mrs. Barry,as a Nymph; at his Royal Highness’s second Exile intoFlanders.
_After our showing Play of mighty Pains,We here present you humble Nymphs and Swains.Our rustick Sports sometimes may Princes please,And Courts do oft divert in Cottages,And prize the Joys with some young rural Maid,On Beds of Grass beneath a lovely Shade,’.ove all the Pride of City-Jilts, whose ArtsAre more to gain your Purses than your Hearts;Whose chiefest Beauty lies in being fine;And Coyness is not Virtue, but Design.We use no Colours to adorn the Face,No artful Looks, nor no affected Grace,The neighbouring Stream serves for a Looking-glass.Ambition is not known within our Groves;Here’s no Dispute for Empire, but for Loves;The humble Swain his Birth-right here enjoys,And fears no Danger from the publick Voice;No Wrong nor Insolence from busy Powers,No Rivals here for Crowns, but those of Flowers,His Country and his Flocks enjoy with ease,Ranges his native Fields and Groves in Peace;Nor forc’d by Arbitrary Votes to flyTo foreign Shores for his Security.Our humble Tributes uncompell’d we pay,And cheerful Homage to the Lord of May;No Emulation breaks his soft Repose,Nor do his Wreaths or Virtues gain him Foes:No publick Mischiefs can disturb his Reign,And Malice would be busy here in vain.Fathers and Sons just Love and Duty pay;This knows to be indulgent, that t’obey.Here’s no Sedition hatcht, no other Plots,But to entrap the Wolf that steals our Flocks.Who then wou’d be a King, gay Crowns to wear,Restless his Nights, thoughtful his Days with Care;Whose Greatness, or whose Goodness cant secureFrom Outrages which Knaves and Fools procure?
Greatness, be gone, we banish you from hence,The noblest State is lowly Innocence.Here honest Wit in Mirth and Triumph reigns,Musick and Love shall ever bless our Swains,And keep the Golden Age within our Woods and Plains_.
The scene is London. Sir Timothy Treat-all, an old seditious knight, that keeps open house for Commonwealthsmen and true Blue Protestants, has disinherited his nephew, Tom Wilding, a town gallant and a Tory. Wilding is pursuing an intrigue with Lady Galliard, a wealthy widow, and also with Chariot, heiress to the rich Sir Nicholas Get-all, recently deceased. Lady Galliard is further hotly wooed by Sir Charles Meriwill, a young Tory, but she favours Wilding. Sir Charles is encouraged in his suit by his roystering uncle, Sir Anthony. Wilding introduces his mistress Diana to Sir Timothy as the heiress Charlot; and at an entertainment given by Sir Timothy, Charlot herself appears, disguised as a Northern lass, to watch the progress of Tom’s intrigue with the widow, who eventually yields to him. Sir Charles, none the less, backed by Sir Anthony, still persists, and after various passionate scenes forces her to consent to become his bride. Meanwhile Sir Timothy has arranged a marriage with Diana, whom he firmly believes to be Charlot. During the progress of the entertainment he is visited by a strange nobleman and his retinue, who offer him the crown of Poland and great honours. That night, however, his house is rifled by thieves and his money and papers stolen. He himself is pinioned hand and foot, the foreign lord bound fast in his own room, and all his followers secured. Sir Timothy having married Diana discovers that she is none other than his nephew’s mistress, and, moreover, the Polish ambassador was Tom in masquerade, the attendants and burglars his friends, who by obtaining his treasonable correspondence are able effectually to silence the old knight. Wilding is united to Charlot, whilst Lady Galliard weds Charles Meriwill.
The City Heiress is most manifestly borrowed from two main sources. Sir Anthony Meriwill and Charles are Durazzo and Caldoro from Massinger’sThe Guardian(licensed 31 October, 1633, 8vo, 1655). Mrs. Behn has transferred to her play even small details and touches. The burglary, that most wonderful of all burglaries, is taken and improved from Middleton’sA Mad World, My Masters(4to, 1608), Act ii, where Sir Bounteous Progress is robbed by Dick Folly-Wit, his grandson, in precisely the same way as Sir Timothy is choused by Tom. On 4 February, 1715, Charles Johnson produced at Drury Lane hisThe Country Lasses; or, The Custom of the Manor, a rifacimento of Fletcher’sThe Custom of the CountryandThe City Heiress. It is a well-written, lively enough comedy, but very weak and anaemic withal when compared to Mrs. Behn. B. G. Stephenson, in his vivacious libretto to Cellier’s tuneful opera,Dorothy, produced at the Gaiety Theatre, 25 September, 1886, has made great use of Johnson’s play, especially Act i, where the gallants meet the two ladies disguised as country girls; the duel scenes of Act v; and the pseudo-burglary of Act iii. He even gives his comic sheriff’s officer the name of Lurcher, who in Johnson is the rackety nephew that tricks his hospitable old uncle, Sir John English. TheBiographia Dramaticastates that Mrs. Behn ‘introduced into this play (The City Heiress) a great part of theInner Temple Masqueby Middleton.’ This charge is absolutely unfounded, and it would not be uninteresting to know how so complete an error arose. The two have nothing in common. It must be allowed that Mrs. Behn has displayed such wit and humour as amply to justify her plagiarisms. Sir Timothy Treat-all himself is, of course, Shaftesbury almost without disguise. There are a thousand telling hits at the President of the Council and his vices. He was also bitterly satirized in many other plays. In Nevil Payne’sThe Siege of Constantinople(1675) he appears as The Chancellor; 1680 in Otway’s Shakespearean cento cum bastard classicismCaius Mariussome very plain traits can be recognized in the grim Marius senior; in Southerne’sThe Loyal Brother(1682) Ismael, a villainous favourite; inVenice Preserved(1682) the lecherous Antonio; in the same year Banks caricatured him as a quite unhistorical Cardinal Wolsey,Virtue Betray’d; or, Anna Bullen; in Crowne’s mordantCity Politics(1683) the Podesta of a most un-Italian Naples; the following year Arius the heresiarch in Lee’sConstantine the Great; in the operaticAlbion and Albanius(1685), Dryden does not spare even physical infirmities and disease with the crudest yet cruellest exhibition, and five years later he attacked his old enemy once more as Benducar in that great tragedyDon Sebastian.
The City Heiress; or, Sir Timothy Treat-allwas produced at the Duke’s House, Dorset Garden, in 1682. Downes specially mentions it as having been ‘well acted’, and it was indeed an ‘all star’ cast. It had a tremendous ovation but in spite of its great merit did not become a stock play, probably owing to the intensely political nature of much of its satirical wit, a feature necessarily ephemeral. It seems, however, to have been presented from time to time, and there was a notable revival on 10 July, 1707, at the Haymarket, for the benefit of Husband and Pack. Sir Timothy was played by Cross; Tom Wilding, Mills; Sir Anthony, Bullock; Foppington, Pack; Lady Galliard, Mrs. Bradshaw; Charlot, Mrs. Bicknall; Clacket, Mrs. Powell. It met with a very favourable reception.
To the Right HonourableHenryEarl ofArundel, and LordMowbray.
’.is long that I have with great impatience waited some opportunity to declare my infinite Respect to your Lordship, coming, I may say, into the World with a Veneration for your Illustrious Family, and being brought up with continual Praises of the Renowned Actions of your glorious Ancestors, both in War and Peace, so famous over the Christian World for their Vertue, Piety, and Learning, their elevated Birth, and greatness of Courage, and of whom all our English History are full of the Wonders of their Lives: A Family of so Ancient Nobility, and from whom so many Heroes have proceeded to bless and serve their King and Country, that all Ages and all Nations mention ‘em even with Adoration: My self have been in this our Age an Eye and Ear-witness, with what Transports of Joy, with what unusual Respect and Ceremony, above what we pay to Mankind, the very Name of the Great Howards of Norfolk and Arundel, have been celebrated on Foreign Shores! And when any one of your Illustrious Family have pass’d the Streets, the People throng’d to praise and bless him as soon as his Name has been made known to the glad Croud. This I have seen with a Joy that became a true English heart, (who truly venerate its brave Country-men) and joyn’d my dutiful Respects and Praises with the most devout; but never had the happiness yet of any opportunity to express particularly that Admiration I have and ever had for your Lordship and your Great Family. Still, I say, I did admire you, still I wish’d and pray’d for you; ‘twas all I cou’d or durst: But, as my Esteem for your Lordship daily increased with my Judgment, so nothing cou’d bring it to a more absolute height and perfection, than to observe in these troublesome times, this Age of Lying, Peaching, and Swearing with what noble Prudence, what steadiness of Mind, what Loyalty and Conduct you have evaded the Snare, that ‘twas to be fear’d was laid for all the Good, the Brave, and Loyal, for all that truly lov’d our best of Kings and this distracted Country. A thousand times I have wept for fear that Impudence and Malice wou’d extend so far as to stain your Noble and ever-Loyal Family with its unavoidable Imputatious; and as often for joy, to see how undauntedly both the Illustrions Duke your Father, and your Self, stem’d the raging Torrent that threatned, with yours, the ruin of the King and Kingdom; all which had not power to shake your Constancy or Loyalty: for which, may Heaven and Earth reward and bless you; the noble Examples to thousands of failing hearts, who from so great a President of Loyalty, became confirm’d. May Heaven and Earth bless you for your pious and resolute bravery of Mind, and Heroick honesty, when you cry’d,Not Guilty; that you durst, like your great self, speak Conscientious Truths in a Juncto so vitious, when Truth and Innocence was criminal: and I doubt not but the Soul of that great Sufferer bows down from Heaven in gratitude for that noble service done it. All these and a thousand marks you give of daily growing Greatness; every day produces to those like me, curious to learn the story of your Life and Actions, something that even adds a Lustre to your great Name, which one wou’d think you’d be made no more splendid: some new Goodness, some new act of Loyalty or Courage, comes out to cheer the World and those that admire you. Nor wou’d I be the last of those that dayly congratulate and celebrate your rising Glory; nor durst I any other way approach you with it, but this humble one, which carries some Excuse along with it.
Proud of the opportunity then, I most humbly beg your Lordships’ patronage of a Comedy, which has nothing to defend it, but the Honour it begs, and nothing to deserve that Honour, but its being in every part true Tory! Loyal all-over! except one Knave, which I hope no body will take to himself; or if he do, I must e’en say withHamlet,
—Then let the strucken Deer go weep—
It has the luck to be well received in the Town; which (not for my Vanity) pleases me, but that thereby I find Honesty begins to come in fashion again, when Loyalty is approv’d, and Whigism becomes a Jest where’er ‘tis met with. And, no doubt on’t, so long as the Royal Cause has such Patrons as your Lordship, such vigorous and noble Supporters, his Majesty will be great, secure and quiet, the Nation flourishing and happy, and seditious Fools and Knaves that have so long disturb’d the Peace and Tranquility of the World, will become the business and sport of Comedy, and at last the scorn of that Rabble that fondly and blindly worshipt ‘em; and whom nothing can so well convince as plain Demonstration, which is ever more powerful and prevailent than Precept, or even Preaching it self. If this have edifi’d effectual, ‘tis all I wish; and that your Lordship will be pleas’d to accept the humble Offering, is all I beg, and the greatest Glory I care shou’d be done,
MY LORD,Your Lordship’s most Humbleand most Obedient Servant,A. BEHN.
THE CITY HEIRESS; or, SirTimothy Treat-all.
Written by Mr.Otway, Spoken by Mrs.Barry.
How vain have proved the Labours of the Stage,In striving to reclaim a vitious Age!Poets may write the Mischief to impeach,You care as little what the Poets teach,As you regard at Church what Parsons preach.But where such Follies, and such Vices reign,What honest Pen has Patience to refrain?At Church, in Pews, ye most devoutly snoreAnd here, got dully drunk, ye come to roar:Ye go to Church to glout, and ogle there,And come to meet more loud convenient here.With equal Zeal ye honour either Place,And run so very evenly your Race,Y’ improve in Wit just as you do in Grace.It must be so, some Daemon has possestOur Land, and we have never since been blest.Y’ have seen it all, or heard of its Renown,In Reverend Shape it staled about the Town,Six Yeomen tall attending on its Frown.Sometimes with humble Note and zealous Lore,’.wou’d play the Apostolick Function o’er:But, Heaven have mercy on us when it swore.Whene’er it swore, to prove the Oaths were true,Out of its much at random Halters flewRound some unwary Neck, by Magick thrown,Though still the cunning Devil sav’d its own:For when the Inchantment could no longer last,The subtle Pug most dextrously uncas’d,Left awful Form for one more seeming pious,And in a moment vary’d to defy us;From silken Doctor home-spun Ananias:Left the leud Court, and did in City fix,Where still, by its old Arts, it plays new Tricks,And fills the Heads of Fools with Politicks.This Daemon lately drew in many a Guest,To part with zealous Guinea for—no Feast.Who, but the most incorrigible Fops,For ever doomed in dismal Cells, call’d Shops,To cheat and damn themselves to get their Livings,Wou’d lay sweet Money out in Sham-Thanksgivings?Sham-Plots you may have paid for o’er and o’er;But who e’er paid for a Sham-Treat before?Had you not better sent your Offerings allHither to us, than Sequestrators Hall?I being your Steward, Justice had been done ye;I cou’d have entertain’d you worth your Money.
SirTimothy Treat-all, an old seditious Knight, | that keeps open House for Commonwealthsmen | Mr.Nokes. and true blue Protestants, Uncle toT. | Wilding, |Tom Wilding, a Tory, his discarded Nephew, Mr.Bctterton. SirAnthony Meriwill, an old Tory Knight of Mr.Lee.Devonshire, SirCharles Meriwill, his Nephew, a Tory also, | in love with L.Galliard, and Friend to | Mr.Williams.Wilding, |Dresswell, a young Gentleman, Friend to Mr.Bowman.Wilding,Foppington, a Hanger-on onWilding, Mr.Jevon.Jervice, Man to SirTimothy.Laboir, Man toTom Wilding. Boy, Page to LadyGalliard. Boy, Page toDiana. Guests, Footmen, Musick, &c.
LadyGalliard, a rich City-Widow, in love with | Mrs.Barry.Wilding, |Charlot, The City-Heiress, in love withWilding, Mrs.Butler.Diana, Mistress toWilding, and kept by him, Mrs.Corror. Mrs.Clacket, a City Baud and Puritan, Mrs.Novice. Mrs.Closet, Woman to LadyGalliard, Mrs.Lee. Mrs.Sensure, SirTimothy’sHousekeeper.Betty, Maid toDiana. Maid atCharlot’slodging.