_Ther_. I am undone! [_Aside_. It is a Princess, Sir, I must admire, But never durst behold her with Eyes of Love, A Maid so much above me. _Hon_. I am a Man, whose martial Disposition Renders me too unartful in my Language; I cannot study Fineness in my Words, But with Sincerity declare my Heart, And do propose this Marriage with _Olympia_, For your Advantage and the publick Interest, Besides my own Content. _Ther_. Have you consider’d, Sir, I am below her? _Hon_. No more of that; go visit my _Olympia_, She is prepared to give you Entertainment. [_Ex_. Hon. _Ther_. Marry _Olympia_! No, cou’d he with Olympia give the World, I could not love, nor marry her. --Oh, my Lysander! what evasion now? --Didst hear the noble Offer of the General? _Lys_. I did, great Sir, and what will you return? _Ther_. If I refuse, I must offend the Man To whom of all the World I am most oblig’d, And one who knowing me but by my Services, Offers me what _Thersander_ might accept. _Lys_. It’s fit you should consult the Princess, Sir, What ‘tis you ought to do. _Ther_. I’ll take thy Counsel--and wait upon _Olympia_: --Yes, I will go visit her, though but to prove No Torment can be like dissembled Love. [_Exeunt_. SCENE IV. _A Chamber_. _Enter Queen, Cleomena, Honorius. _Qu_. Is’t possible, my Brother, you can have So great a Passion for the publick good, As willingly to sacrifice your Child to its Repose, And make her Arms the soft and easy Chains To link this gallant Stranger to our Interest? _Hon_. His Virtue I prefer above a Crown. _Cleo_. You shou’d love Virtue as you ought to love it; Not give it over-measure--But are you sure he will accept it? _Hon_. I am not certain, being not come so far; But I propos’d it, and no doubt he lik’d it. _Cleo_. This cannot be his Malice; for he was ever noble, [Hon. _talks to the_ Queen. But false or feign’d, I can endure no more on’t: --By Heaven, this Stranger’s false! false as his Name! --_Semiris_ found him gazing on her Picture: --’Tis so--he loves _Olympia_! And when I ask the Name of her he lov’d, I urg’d it with such softness in my Eyes, That he in Pity of me swore ‘twas I: --Now can I find how much my Soul’s possest With Love, since ‘tis with Jealousy opprest. [_Goes out_. _Qu_. How do you like the Trial of _Orsames_, Which I intend to make? _Hon_. You’ll oblige your People, and do a Mother’s Duty. _Qu_. You know ‘twas not the Tyrant in my Nature, That from his Infancy has kept him ignorant Of what he was--but the Decrees of Heaven. _Hon_. Madam, ‘tis true; and if the Gods be just, He must be King too, though his Reign be short: You cannot alter those Decrees of Heaven. _Qu_. The Gods are Witness how these eighteen Years I have with much Regret conceal’d his Birth.