_Cleo_. Oh Gods! not guess the Man! Or, rather think some God! Dull stupid Maid, Hast thou not heard of something more than mortal! ’.wixt Human and Divine! our Country’s Genius, Our young God of War! not heard of him! _Sem_. ‘Tis not Prince _Artabazes_, or _Ismenes_? _Cleo_. Away, thou anger’st me. _Sem_. Pardon me, Madam, It can be none at Court, if none of these? And all besides are much below that Glory. _Cleo_. What call’st thou much below, mistaken thing? Can a gay Name give Virtue, Wit, or Beauty? Can it gain Conquest, or in Fields or Courts? No, nor defend its own fantastick Owner. --Come, guess again. _Sem_. I can guess no further than a Man, and that I’m sure he is. _Cleo_. I know not-- For yet I never saw him, but in’s Character, Unless sometimes in Dreams. _Sem_. Is’t not enough he conquers where he comes, But that his Fame prevents his Sword and Eyes? Perhaps his Person may not be agreeable; The best in Camps are not the best in Courts. _Cleo_. So brave a Mind must have as brave an Outside. My Uncle’s Letters from the Camp contain Nothing but Wonders of his Worth and Valour, And ‘tis impossible but such a Man Must merit Love as well as Admiration. _Sem_. Does he not come to Court? _Cleo_. The Queen has made him many Invitations; But he for some unknown and cruel Cause, Humbly implores her Pardon for refusing: Nor can the General learn his Quality; But like his Deeds, believes it must be great. _Sem_. ‘Tis most likely; but I should never fall in love with Fame alone. _Cleo_. I hope it is not Love--but strange Curiosity To see this brave Unknown--and yet I fear-- I’ve hid this new Impatience of my Soul, Even from thee, till it grew too importunate; And strove by all my lov’d Divertisements, To chase it from my Bosom, but in vain: ’.is too great for little Sports to conquer; The Musick of the Dogs displeas’d to day, And I was willing to retire with thee, To let thee know my Story: And this lone Shade, as if design’d for Love, Is fittest to be conscious of my Crime. --Therefore go seek a Bank where we may sit; And I will sigh whilst thou shall pity me. [_Stands with her Arms across_. [Sem. _looks about, finds the Cap and Feathers_. _Sem_. See, Madam, what I’ve found. _Cleo_. ‘Tis a fine Plume, and well adorn’d, And must belong to no uncommon Man: --And look, _Semiris_, where its Owner lies --Ha! he sleeps, tread softly lest you wake him: --Oh Gods! who’s this with so divine a Shape? _Sem_. His Shape is very well. _Cleo_. Gently remove the Hair from off his Face, [Sem. _puts back his Hair_. And see if that will answer to the rest: --All lovely! all surprizing! Oh, my Heart, How thou betray’st the weakness of our Sex! --Look on that Face, where Love and Beauty dwells-- And though his Eyes be shut, tell me, _Semiris_, Has he not wondrous Charms? _Sem_. Yes, Madam, and I wou’d excuse you, if you shou’d now fall in Love, here’s Substance; but that same Passion for Fame alone, I do not like.