_Cleo_. Yes, I would have it, by my self I would; This is the time to let the Monarch know The Glories he was born to; Nor can I die in Peace till he be crown’d. [_Aside_. I’ll have this Nation happy in a Prince, A Prince they long in silence have bemoan’d, Which every slight occasion breaks out loud, And soon will raise them up to a Rebellion, The common People’s God on Holy-days. --And this, _Vallentio_, I have often observ’d; And ‘tis an Act too humble for my Soul, To court my self into security. _Sem_. Madam, the Gods do disapprove his Reign, Which they not only say shall be but short, But Bloody and Tyrannick. _Cleo_. I will expound that Oracle, Which Priests unridling make more intricate: They said that he should reign, and so he did, Which lasted not above a pair of Hours. But I my self will be his Oracle now, And speak his kinder Fate, And I will have no other Priest but thee, [_To_ Vallentio. Who shall unfold the Mystery in plain terms. _Val_. Madam, the City and the Army are, by this Defeat, Enough inclin’d to hear that Reason. _Cleo_. _Geron_ already has Instructions what to do, And you need none, wanting no Resolution. _Val_. If I miscarry, Madam, I’ll be condemn’d, Never to look my Foe i’th’ Face again. _Cleo_. Haste, and be prosperous-- [_Exit_. Val. _Semiris_, are those Garments ready I spoke for? _Sem_. Madam, they’re here--but now what will you do? _Cleo_. Now, I will die--and now thou know’st my Will. _Sem_. Ah, Madam, ‘tis too much you let me know, Denying me t’ attend you where you go, With such a Guide I cannot err. _Cleo_. Alone I’ll go, the Journey is not far In passing; though I miss the aids of Day, Yet my _Clemanthis_ lights me on my way. Why dost thou weep? indeed thou art unkind. _Sem_. I weep because you’d leave me here behind; Doubting my Love, I beg you wou’d permit That I might give you the last proof of it. I in your last adventure was too slow, And will not be deny’d my Duty now. _Cleo_. Thou show’st a Soul so generous and free, That I’m contented thou shou’dst follow me; Come, dry thy Eyes, such helps we do not need; To ease our Griefs, we must not weep but bleed. [_Exeunt_. SCENE VI. _A Street_. _Enter_ Vallentio _passing over the Stage, is met by a Rabble of Citizens_. _1 Cit_. Well, Colonel, have you delivered our Grievances to the Queen? _Val_. Yes, I have. _1 Cit_. Well, and what Success? shall we have a King? _Val_. And why a King? why should you be thus earnest for a King? what good will a King do you? he’s but a single Man, cannot redeem the lost Victory, cannot raise up your dead Members, no, nor levy new ones. _1 Cit_. That’s all one, Colonel, we will have a King: for look ye, Colonel, we have thought of a King, and therefore we will have one. Hah, Neighbours! a substantial Reason. _All_. Ay, ay, a King, a King.