The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Ii Part 33

--Then I resolv'd upon this last Adventure, To make my Application to the Princess, Knowing her n.o.ble Nature, To try (since mighty Ransoms were refus'd) What simple Love would do; and in my way I lighted on a Druid, who in's Youth Had liv'd in Courts, but now retir'd to Shades, And is a little Monarch o'er his Flocks; To him I told my Story, who encourag'd me in my resolv'd design, And I so luckily have made an Interest In _Cleomena's_ Heart, These Chains she'as given me Freedom to dismiss, And you must only wear Love's Fetters now: [_She takes off his Chains_.

--Come, haste, _Amintas_, from this horrid Place, And be thy self again, appear in Arms.

The _Scythians_ are encampt within thy View, And e'er three Births of Day the Armies meet; Th' Event of which, I at the _Druid_'s Cell Will wait; sending continual Vows to Heaven For thy dear Safety: there when the Fight is done, I wish to meet thee; --But now your Country and your King expect you, And I love Glory equal to _Amintas_.

_Amin_. But yet the generous Bounty of the Princess Obliges here, no less than Duty there; I know not how the G.o.ds of War to move To grant me Victor, or the vanquish'd prove; My Heart to either is not well inclin'd, Since--vanquish'd I am lost, conquering unkind.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III. _A Grove_.

_Enter_ Thersander, Lysander.

_Ther_. Urge it no more, _Lysander_,'tis in vain, My Liberty past all retrieve is lost; But they're such glorious Fetters that confine me, I wou'd not quit them to preserve that Life Thou justly say'st I hazard by my Love.

_Lys_. The _Scythian_ G.o.ds defend it!

_Ther_. The G.o.ds inspire it, 'tis their Work alone; --I know she is my Enemy, hates _Thersander_, Has sent for all the neighbouring Kings for aid, That hither Artabases and Ismenes Have brought their Powers t' a.s.sist against my Crown.

But what of this? She loves me as _Clemanthis_, Which will surmount her Hatred to the _Scythians_.

Oh, my _Lysander_! didst thou know her Charms, Thou'dst also know 'tis not a mortal Force That can secure the Heart: She's all divine!

All Beauty, Wit, and Softness! and she loves!

Already I have found the grateful Secret; She scorns the little Customs of her s.e.x, And her belief of being so much above me, Permits her to encourage my Design; She gives a Boldness to my bashful Flame, And entertains me with much Liberty.

_Lys_. Were all this true, you're equally unhappy; She must be only his that conquers you, That wins your Crown, and lays it at her Feet.

_Ther_. Love ne'er considers the Event of things, The Path before me's fair, and I'll pursue it; Fearing no other Forces than her Eyes, Bright as the Planets under which they're born.

_Lys_. And will you let her know you are in love?

_Ther_. If all my Sighs, if Eyes still fix'd on hers With Languishment and Pa.s.sion, will inform her, I'll let her know my Flame, or perish in th' Attempt.

_Lys_. Dare you declare it as you now appear?

And can you hope, that under the Degree Of what indeed you are, she will permit it?

And your Discovery is your certain ruin.

_Ther_. Thy Counsel, dear _Lysander_, comes too late, She's in the Grove, where now I must attend her, And see where she approaches--

_Enter_ Cleomena, Semiris.

_Cleo_. The Stranger, say you, grown of late so pensive!

--I must enquire the Cause--what if it shou'd be Love?

And that too not for me! hah, my _Semiris_!

That Thought has given me Pains I never felt; --G.o.ds! why comes he not? I grow impatient now; --Say, didst thou bid him wait me in the Grove?

_Sem_. Madam, I spoke to him my self--

_Cleo_. And told him I wou'd speak with him?

_Sem_. As you commanded me, I said.

_Cleo_. It seems he values my Commands but little, Who is so slow in his Obedience: --Where found you him?

_Sem_. I'th' Antick Gallery, Madam.

_Cleo_. Gallery! what did he there? tell me exactly, --I have no Picture there.

_Sem_. Madam, he was viewing that of _Olympia_, your fair Cousin, But for the Excellency of the Work, not Beauty.

_Cleo_. Thou art deceiv'd; viewing her Picture, say you?

--Oh, thou hast touch'd a tender part, _Semiris_; --But yonder's he that can allay my Rage [_Sees_ Thersander.

And calm me in that Love by every Look.

--_Clemanthis_, you absent your self too much From those to whom your Presence is agreeable; I hear that you are grown retir'd of late, And visit shady Groves, walk thus--and sigh, Like melancholy Lovers. Has the Court (Who for your Entertainment has put on More Gaiety than in an Age before) Nothing that can divert you? Cease your Ceremony; [_He bows low_.

I am your Friend, and if ought harbour there Within that sullen Breast, impart it here-- And I'll contribute any thing to ease you.

--Come--boldly tell thy Griefs; I have an Interest in thy n.o.ble Life.

--Perhaps, since you're arriv'd at Court, you've seen Some Beauty that has made a Conquest o'er your Heart; --Whoe'er she be, you cannot fear Success.

_Ther_. The Honours you have heap'd upon your Slave, Have been sufficient To have encourag'd any bold Attempt; And here are Beauties would transform a G.o.d, Much more a Soldier, into an amorous Shape.

--But, I confess, with shame, I brought no Heart Along with me to Court, and after that What acceptable Sacrifice can I offer?

This makes me shun the Pleasures of your Court, And seek Retirements silent as my Griefs.

_Cleo_, It seems you were a Lover e'er I saw you, And Absence from your Mistress makes you languish.

_Ther_. Ah, Madam, do not ask me many Questions, Lest I offend where I should merit Pity; The Boldness may arrive unto her Knowledge, And then you'll lose the humblest of your Creatures, Whilst as I am, I may among the Croud Of daily Worshippers, pay my Devotions.

_Cleo_. Give me your Hand, we'll walk a little.

[_They go and sit dawn on a Bank_.

--How do you like this Grove?

_Ther_. As I do every place you're pleas'd to bless.

Heaven were not Heaven, were G.o.ds not present there; And where you are, 'tis Heaven every where.

_Cleo_. Look, Clemanthis--on yonder tuft of Trees, Near which there is a little murmuring Spring, From whence a Rivulet does take its rise, And branches forth in Channels through the Garden; --'Twas near a place like that--where first I saw _Clemanthis_.

[_Sighing_.

_Ther_. Madam, be pleas'd to add, 'twas also there _Clemanthis_ left his Liberty at the Feet Of Divine _Cleomena_; And charg'd himself with those too glorious Chains, Never to be dismist but with his Life.

[_She rising in anger, he kneels_.

_Cleo_. How, _Clemanthis_!

_Ther_. Ah! Madam, if I too presumptuous grow, From your Commands, and all your Bounties to me, You should forgive the Pride you do create, And all its strange Effects; Which if I have mistaken, let me die.

Only this Mercy grant me, to believe, That if our Adorations please the G.o.ds, Mine cannot be offensive to my Princess, Since they are equally Religious.

_Cleo_. Stranger--before I punish thy Presumption, Inform me who it is that has offended?

Who giving me no other knowledge of him, Than what his sword has done--dares raise his Eyes to me?

_Ther_. Madam, what you demand is just, And I had rather die than disobey you; But I am constrain'd by a Necessity (Which when you know, you certainly will pardon) For some time to conceal my Birth and Name.

_Cleo_. Till then you should have kept your Flame conceal'd, 'T had been less disobliging from a criminal one, Whose Quality had justify'd his Boldness.

_Ther_. Ah! Madam, wou'd Heaven and you wou'd find no other Difficulty Than want of Quality to merit you!