_Cleo_. But oh my Life! the cruel Wound I gave thee, Let me be well assur’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 Friendship 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. _Ors_. It is a Woman too! another Woman! I wou’d embrace thee if I durst approach thee. _Cleo_. You need not fear, you may embrace your Sister-- [Cleo. _embraces him_. _Ors_. This is the kindest Women I e’er saw. _Cleo_. Brother, behold this King no more your Enemy, Since I must pay him Duty as a Father. _Enter_ Queen, Olympia, _Women_. _Ors_. Hah, _Olympia_! sure ‘tis an airy Vision-- _Ger_. Approach her, Sir, and try. _Qu_. Permit a wretched Mother here to kneel. _King_. Rise, Madam, and receive me as your Friend; This pair of Lovers has united all our Interests. [_Points to_ Cleo. _and_ Thers. _Qu_. Heavens! what’s this I see, _Clemanthis_ And the Prince of _Scythia_? _Ther_. Yes, Madam, and a Man that humbly begs The happy Title of your Son--_Honorius_, Of you I ask the greatest Pardon-- [_Talks to_ Olympia. _Ors_. I am a King, and do adore thee too, And thou shalt rule a World with me, my Fair; A Sword I’ll give thee, with a painted Bow, Whence thou shalt shoot a thousand gilded Arrows. _Olym_. What to do, Sir? _Ors_. To save the expence of Cruelty; For they will kill as sure, but rightly aim’d; This noble Fellow told me so. [_To_ Val. _Olym_. Sir, I’ll do any thing that you will have me: But now the Queen your Mother, Sir, expects you.