The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Ii Part 27

_King of Scythia_.

_Thersander_, his Son, under the Name of _Clemanthis_, when on the _Dacian_ side.

_Amintas_, a young n.o.bleman, belov'd by _Thersander_, and Lover of _Urania_.

_Lysander_, Page to _Thersander_.

_Urania_, in love with _Amintas_.

_Lyces_, a Shepherdess.

Pages and Attendants, Courtiers (men and women), Officers, Guards, Soldiers, Huntsmen, Shepherds, Shepherdesses, a.s.sa.s.sins, and all a Rabble of the Mobile.

SCENE, the Court of _Dacia_, between the two Armies just before the Town.

ACT I.

SCENE I. _A Grove near the Camp_.

_Enter_ Pimante _with Letters_.

Gone! Well, I have never the Luck, I thank my Stars, to meet with any of these mighty Men of Valour.--_Vallentio_! n.o.ble Colonel.

_Enter_ Vallentio.

_Val. Pimante_! Why, what the Devil brought thee to the Camp?

_Pim_. Affairs, Affairs--

_Val_. They must be wondrous pressing that made thee venture; but the Fighting's past, and all the Noise over; every Man of Fame gone to receive what's due to his Merit; and the whole Camp looks now like a City in a great Plague, no stirring--But what's thy Business here?

_Pim_. Why, I brought Letters from the Queen to that same mighty Man of Prowess--what d'ye call him?

_Val_. The brave Clemanthis?

_Pim_. The same--But, Colonel, is he indeed so very terrible a thing as Fame gives out?--But she was ever a notable Wag at History.

_Val_. How dare thy Coward-thoughts venture upon any thing so terrible as the remembrance of that Gallant Man? Is not his Name like Thunder to thy Ears? Does it not make thee shrink into thy self?

_Pim_. Lord, Colonel, why so hot? 'Tis the cursed'st thing in the World to be thus continually us'd to fighting; why, how uncivil it renders a Man! I spake by way of Question.

_Val_. Oh! how soft and wanton I could grow in the Description I could make of him--He merits all in Peace as well as War; Compos'd of Charms would take all Womankind, As those of's Valour overcome the Men.

_Pim_. Well said, i'faith, Colonel; but if he be so fine a Man, why did you not keep him here amongst you to do Execution on the _Scythians_?

for I think e'er long you'll give 'em Battel.

_Val_. The General, whose n.o.ble Life he sav'd, Us'd all his Interest with him, but in vain: He neither could oblige his stay i'th' Camp, Nor get him to the Court. Oh! were his Quality But like his Actions great, he were a Man To merit _Cleomena_, Whose Worth and Beauty, as a thing Divine, I reverence.

But I abhor the feeble Reign of Women; It foretels the Downfal of the n.o.blest Trade, War.

Give me a Man to lead me on to Dangers, Such as _Clemanthis_ is, or as _Orsames_ might have been.

_Pim_. Colonel, 'tis Treason but to name _Orsames_, and much more to wish he were as King.

_Val_. Not wish he were! by all those G.o.ds I will, Who did conspire against him in their Oracles.

Not wish him King! yes, and may live to see it.

_Pim_. What should we do with such a King? The G.o.ds foretel he shall be fierce and b.l.o.o.d.y, a Ravisher, a Tyrant o'er his People; his Reign but short, and so unfit for Reign.

_Val_. The G.o.ds! I'll not trust 'em for a Day's Pay--let them but give one a taste of his Reign, tho but an hour, and I'll be converted to them.

_Pim_. Besides, he is very ill bred for a King; he knows nothing of the World, cannot dress himself, nor sing, nor dance, or play on any Musick; ne'er saw a Woman, nor knows how to make use of one if he had her.

There's an old fusty Philosopher that instructs him; but 'tis in nothing ever that shall make a fine Gentleman of him: He teaches him a deal of Awe and Reverence to the G.o.ds; and tells him that his natural Reason's Sin--But, Colonel, between you and I, he'll no more of that Philosophy, but grows as sullen as if you had the breeding of him here i'th' Camp.

_Val_. Thou tell'st me heavenly News; a King, a King again! Oh, for a mutinous Rabble, that would break the Prison-Walls, and set _Orsames_ free, both from his Fetters and his Ignorance.

_Pim_. There is a Discourse at Court, that the Queen designs to bring him out, and try how he would behave himself: But I'm none of that Counsel, she's like to make a fine Court on't; we have enough in the Virago he Daughter, who, if it were not for her Beauty, one would swear were no Woman, she's so given to Noise and Fighting.

_Val_. I never saw her since she was a Child, and then she naturally hated _Scythia_.

_Pim_. Nay, she's in that mind still; and the superst.i.tious Queen, who thinks that Crown belongs to _Cleomena_--

_Val_. Yes, that was the Promise of the Oracle too.

_Pim_. Breeds her more like a General than a Woman. Ah, how she loves fine Arms! a Bow, a Quiver! and though she be no natural Amazon, she's capable of all their martial Fopperies--But hark, what Noise is that?

[_Song within_.

_Val_. 'Tis what we do not use to hear--Stand by.

SONG.

(1.)

_Damon, I cannot blame your Will, 'Twas Chance, and not Design, did kill; For whilst you did prepare your Arms On purpose Celia to subdue, I met the Arrows as they flew, And sav'd her from their Harms.

(2.) Alas, she could not make returns.

Who for a Swain already turns, A Shepherd, who does her caress With all the softest Marks of Love; And 'tis in vain thou seek'st to move The cruel Shepherdess.

(3.) Content thee with this Victory, I'm Young and Beautiful as she; I'll make thee Garlands all the Day, And in the Shades we'll sit and sing; I'll crown thee with the Pride o'th' Spring, When thou art Lord o'th' May_.

_Enter_ Urania _dress'd gay_, Lyces _a Shepherdess_.

_Ly_. Still as I sing you sigh.

_Uran_. I cannot hear thy Voice, and the returns The Echoes of these shady Groves repeat, But I must find some Softness at my Heart.

--Wou'd I had never known another Dwelling, But this too happy one where thou wert born! [Sighs.

_Ly_. You sigh again: such things become None but unhappy Maids that are forsaken; Your Beauty is too great to suffer that.

_Ura_. No Beauty's proof against false perjur'd Man.

_Ly_. Is't possible you can have lost your Love?