The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Ii Part 46

_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 a _Scythian's_ Wife.

_Ura_. She that can claim _Amintas_ by such Ties, May find a Safety wheresoe'er she flies.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III. _A Prison_.

_Enter_ Orsames _joyful, and_ Geron.

_Ors_. Am I indeed a King?

And is there such a thing as fair _Olympia_?

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 Youth Should 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 Deliverance Be wrought by any other Means than theirs, It were to s.n.a.t.c.h 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 Pa.s.sage--

_Enter_ Vallentio, _followed by_ Gorel _and a Rabble of Citizens and Officers, tearing in the Keeper all b.l.o.o.d.y_.

_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 G.o.ds, 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 safe Depending on a fickle Mult.i.tude, Whom Interest, and not Reason renders just.

_Ors_. Thou art a wondrous Man.

_1 Cit_. Good _Gorel_, 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-- [_Gtves_ Ors. _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 dealt Many 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 thee Be 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 bright _Olympia's_ Eyes That 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_.

SCENE IV. _A Tent_.

_Enter_ Cleomena _and_ Semiris, _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 by _J. Wright_ Esq:

_Fair Nymph, remember all your Scorn Will be by Time repaid; Those Glories which that Face adorn, And flourish as the rising Morn, Must one day set and fade.