Chapter 18

_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_! Noble 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 noble 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 noblest 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 Gods 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 Gods foretel he shall be fierce and bloody, a Ravisher, a Tyrant o’er his People; his Reign but short, and so unfit for Reign.

_Val_. The Gods! 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 Gods; 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 superstitious 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, ’.was 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?

_Ura_. Yes, pretty Maid, canst tell me any tidings of him?

_Ly_. I cannot tell, by what marks do you know him?

_Ura_. Why, by these--a tempting Face and Shape, A Tongue bewitching soft, and Breath as sweet, As is the welcome Breeze that does restore Life to a Man half kill’d with heat before; But has a Heart as false as Seas in Calms, Smiles first to tempt, then ruins with its Storms.

_Ly_. Oh, fair Urania! there are many more So like your Love, if such a one he be: That you wou’d take each Shepherd to be he: ’.is grown the fashion now to be forsworn; Oaths are like Garlands made of finest Flowers, Wither as soon as finish’d; They change their Loves as often as their Scrips, And lay their Mistresses aside like Ribbons, Which they themselves have sullied.

_Pim_. Gad, I’ll venture in--

_Val_. Fair Women, and so near the Camp! What are ye, and from whence?

_Pim_. Ha! ‘tis no matter for that; ask no Questions, but fall to. [_Goes to_ Lyces.

_Ura_. I’m not asham’d to tell the one or t’other; I am a Maid, and one of gentle Birth, A _Scythian_ born, an Enemy to thee, Not as thou art a Man, but Friend to _Dacia_.

_Val_. What Sin have I committed, that so fair a Creature should become my Enemy? but since you are so, you must be my Prisoner, unless your Eyes prevent me, and make me yours.

_Pim_. How, take a Woman Prisoner! I hope you are a finer Gentleman than so.

_Val_. But, Madam, do not fear, for I will use you As well as such a Man as I can do.

_Ura_. Though thou be’st rough, thou hast a noble look, And I believe my Treatment will be gentle.

_Val_. Fair Maid, this Confidence is brave in thee; And though I am not us’d to make returns, Unless in Thunder on my Enemies, Yet name the way, and I will strive to serve you.

_Ura_. Then, Sir, I beg that you would set me free, Nor yet retain me here a Prisoner; But as thou’rt brave, conduct me to the Castle on the Lake, Where young Amintas lies, the Spoil of War.

_Val. Amintas_, Madam, is a gallant Youth, And merits more from Fortune than his Chains; But I could wish (since I have vow’d to serve you) You would command me something Worthy your Beauty, and of that Resolution.

_Ura_. There is no other way to do me service.

_Val_. Then most willingly I will obey you.

_Ura_. But, Sir, I beg this Virgin may depart, Being a _Dacian_, and a neighbouring Villager.

_Val_. All your Commands shall strictly be obey’d.

_Pim_. Pox on her, she’s coy, and let her go. Well, Colonel, I doubt you’ll be for the Queen by and by.

_Ura_. Here--take this Jewel as a part of payment, For all thy goodness to an unknown Maid. [_To_ Lyces. And if by chance I ever see thee more, Believe me, _Lyces_, I will quit the score. [_Ex_. Lyces _weeping_.

[_Exeunt_.