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 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 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 Friendship 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 Title 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 noble 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 assure thee of my Joy.
_Ors_. Gods! how obliging is this kind Concern!
Not all my Passion 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 Gods; But now repents her superstitious Error, And humbly begs thy Pardon.
_Ors_. I will, if you'll implore _Olympia_ but to love me.