Volume Ii Part 48 (1/2)
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 a.s.sur'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 Friends.h.i.+p 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.