The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Ii Part 30

_Ism_. Rank me amongst your Captives; for I find, Whether you fight or not, you must be Victor.

[_Embraces_ Ther.

_Enter_ Vallentio, Urania, Pimante; Vallentio _kneels and delivers_ Urania _to the Princess_.

_Cleo_. What new Encounter's this?

_Val_. I need not ask where I shall pay my Duty: My Wonder will direct me to your Feet.

_Cleo_. Who knows the Man that makes me such a Present?

_Hon_. Madam, he is an Officer of mine, A worthy gallant Fellow; But one that hardly knows what Cities are, But as he'as view'd 'em through their batter'd Walls, And after join'd 'em to your Territories.

_Cleo_. Rise high in her Esteem that loves a Soldier.

[_He rises_.

_Val_. I need say nothing for my Prisoner, Madam, Whose Looks will recommend her: only this, It was against my Will I made her so, Who ne'er refus'd till then to take your Enemies.

_Ther_. It is Urania, she'll know me, and betray me. [_Aside_.

_Cleo_. Say, lovely Maid, whom, and from whence thou art?

_Ura_. A _Scythian_, Madam, and till now your Foe.

_Pim_. Ay, Madam, we took her, we took her.

_Cleo_. So fair an one must merit my Esteem: I hope there are not many such fine Creatures Brought into the Camp against us; if there be, The _Scythians_ cannot doubt of Victory.

--Thy Name and Business here?

_Ura. Urania_, Madam-- My Story were too tedious for your Ear, Nor were it fit I should relate it here.

--But 'tis not as an Enemy I come, 'Tis rather, Madam, to receive my Doom; Nor am I by the chance of War betray'd, But 'tis a willing Captive I am made: Your Pity, not your Anger I shall move, When I confess my Fault is only Love, Love to a Youth, who never knew till now How to submit, nor cou'd to ought but you.

--His Liberty for Ransom you deny; I dare not say that this is Cruelty, Since yet you may be pleas'd to give me leave To die with him, with whom I must not live.

_Ther_. Excellent Maid! what Generosity her Love has taught her!

[_Aside_.

_Cleo_. That you esteem me cruel, is unkind, But Faults of Lovers must Forgiveness find: _Amintas'_ Chains had far more easy been, Had he been less a Favorite to his King.

--But you, _Urania_, may perhaps redeem That Captive which I would not render them.

_Ura_. Madam, this Bounty wou'd exceed Belief, But you too generous are to mock my Grief: And when you shall m' unhappy Story learn, 'Twill justify my Tears, and your Concern.

_Cleo_. I need no Arguments for what I do, But that I will, and then it must be so.

_Ura_. The Prince of _Scythia_ in the Camp of _Dacia_!

If I could be mistaken in that form, I'd hate my Eyes for thus deluding me: But Heaven made nothing but _Amintas_ like him. [_Aside_.

_Cleo_. Come, let's to Court, by this the Queen expects us: --You, my fair Prisoner, must along with me: [_Takes her Hand_.

--Thy Hand, _Clemanthis_, too--Now tell me, Uncle, [Takes him with the other Hand.

--What _Scythian_ that beholds me thus attended, Would not repine at my Felicity, Having so brave a Friend, so fair an Enemy?

[_Exeunt_.

ACT II.

SCENE I. _A Castle or Prison on the Sea_.

_After a little playing on the Lute,--enter_ Orsames _with his Arms across, looking melancholy, follow'd by_ Geron _with a Lute in his Hand_.

_Ors_. I do not like this Musick; It pleases me at first, But every Touch thou giv'st that's soft and low Makes such Impressions here, As puzzles me beyond Philosophy To find the meaning of; Begets strange Notions of I know not what, And leaves a new and unknown thought behind it, That does disturb my Quietness within.

_Ger_. You were not wont to think so.

_Ors_. 'Tis true-- But since with time grown ripe and vigorous, I will be active, though but ill employ'd.

--_Geron_, thou'st often told me, That this same admirable Frame of Nature, This Order and this Harmony of things, Was worthy admiration.

--And yet thou say'st all Men are like to us, Poor, insignificant Philosophers.

I to my self could an Idea frame Of Man, in much more excellence.

Had I been Nature, I had varied still, And made such different Characters of Men, They should have bow'd and made a G.o.d of me, Ador'd, and thank'd me for their great Creation.

--Now, tell me, who's indebted to her Bounties, Whose needless Blessings we despise, not praise?

_Ger_. Why, what wou'd you have done, had you been Nature?

_Ors_. Some Men I wou'd have made with mighty Souls, With Thoughts unlimited by Heaven or Man; I wou'd have made 'em--as thou paint'st the G.o.ds.

_Ger_. What to have done?

_Ors_. To have had Dominion o'er the lesser World, A sort of Men with low submissive Souls, That barely shou'd content themselves with Life, And should have had the Infirmities of Men, As Fear, and Awe, as thou hast of the G.o.ds; And those I wou'd have made as numberless As Curls upon the Face of yonder Sea, Of which each Blast drives Millions to the Sh.o.r.e, Which vanishing, make room for Millions more.

_Ger_. But what if these, so numerous, though so humble, Refuse Obedience to the mighty few?

_Ors_. I would destroy them, and create anew.

--Hast not observ'd the Sea, Where every Wave that hastens to the Bank, Though in its angry Course it overtake a thousand petty ones, How unconcern'd 'twill triumph o'er their Ruin, And make an easy Pa.s.sage to the Sh.o.r.e?--

_Ger_. Which in its proud career 'twill roughly kiss, And then 'twill break to nothing.

_Ors_. Why, thou and I, though tame and peaceable, Are mortal, and must unregarded fall.

--Oh, that thought! that d.a.m.n'd resistless thought!

Methinks it hastens Fate before its time, And makes me wish for what I fain wou'd shun.

_Ger_. Appease your self with thoughts of future Bliss.

_Ors_. Future Bliss! the Dreams of lazy Fools; Why did my Soul take Habitation here, Here in this dull unactive piece of Earth!

Why did it not take Wing in its Creation, And soar above the hated Bounds of this?

What does it lingring here?

_Ger_. To make itself fit for that glorious End 'Twas first design'd for,-- By patient suffering here.