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The Works of Aphra Behn, Vol. II by Aphra Behn

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_Ors_. Why shouldst thou ask so poor a Proof of me?
But yet, I will obey,--give me the Wine.

[_They put something into the Bowl_.

_Olym_. How do you like it, Sir?

_Ors_. Why--well; but I am still the same.
Come, give it me again--'tis very pleasant--
Will you not taste it too?--
Methinks my Soul is grown more gay and vigorous;
What I have drank, has deify'd thee more,
Heightens the Pleasure which I take to gaze on thee,
And sends a thousand strange uneasy Joys,
That play about my Heart, and more transport me--
Drink, my fair Virgin, and perhaps thy Eyes
May find some Charms in me to make thee thus.

_Olym_. Alas, they've found already but too many. [_Aside_.

_Ors_. I thought I must have gaz'd on thee for ever;
--But oh! my Eyes grow heavy in the Play,
As if some strange Divinity about me
Told me my Safety lay in their Declension.
--It is not Sleep!--sure, Kings do never sleep;
That were a low submission to a Power
A Monarch shou'd despise--but yet 'tis so:
Ye Gods, am I but mortal then?
Or do you ever sleep? I find ye do!
But I must--and lose this lovely Object:
Grant, oh ye Gods, that I may find it in a Dream,
Let her Idea hover about my Soul,
And keep it still in this harmonious Order
--And gently blow the Flame't has kindled there.
[_Falls asleep_.

_Enter_ Geron, Pimante, _and_ Arates.

_Pim_. Are you sure he's asleep?

_Ger_. How do you like him, Madam?

_Qu_. I fear he is a Tyrant in his Nature.

_Ger_. But since he can be tam'd by Love and Beauty,
You should not doubt but he'll be fit to reign.

_Qu_. Remove him now into his own Apartment,
And still continue to impose upon him,
Till you receive new Orders.

[_Exeunt_.


SCENE II. _A Grove near the Camp_.

_Enter_ Cleo. _with a Truncheon in her Hand, a Sword and
a Quiver of Arrows by her side, with_ Semiris.

_Sem_. Madam, you are sad,
As if you doubted your Success to day.

_Cleo_. There are some Moments wherein I do repent me
The too rash Banishment of poor _Clemanthis_.
How did he take the Letter which I sent?

_Sem_. As Persons innocent and full of Health
Receive unlookt-for Sentences of Death;
He sigh'd, and said he wou'd obey your Will:
And, Madam, had you seen his silent Grief,
You wou'd have thought him innocent.

_Cleo_. Innocent! banish that foolish Pity from your Heart,
That wou'd persuade thee he is innocent.
Did I not see him courting of Olympia?
And can my Eyes deceive me?

_Sem. Olympia_, Madam! Gods, what do I hear!
Till now I did not know his Fault of Banishment.

_Cleo_. And was't not cause enough?

_Sem_. Ah, Madam, what Injustice have you done?
Before _Clemanthis_ came into your Cabinet,
He entertain'd me for a pretty while
With the Intentions of your generous Uncle;
He told me how he offer'd him _Olympia_,
And that he durst not seem to disesteem it,
Being your Uncle, and a Man to whom
He ow'd so much; but most to hide his Passion:
And then was coming to consult with you,
How he should manage this Affair with him.

_Cleo_. And is this Truth thou tell'st me, dear _Semiris_?

_Sem_. Madam, I do not use t'abuse your Credit.

_Cleo_. Fly then, _Semiris_, and reverse his Doom.

_Sem_. Would I knew whither, Madam.

_Cleo_. Why, is he no longer then in the Camp?

_Sem_. Ah, Madam, is he longer in the World?
For 'tis impossible to be imagin'd
He parted hence with any Thought of Life.

_Cleo_. Send ev'ry way to find him--hark, I'm call'd--
[_Trumpets sound_.
And he that finds him first, is made for ever.
Oh Jealousy, thou Passion most ingrate!
Thy Ills procure more Mischief than thy Hate.
'Tis thou art Tyrant, when Love bears the blame,
'Tis pity thou'rt consistent with Love's Flame.
I'll not my Weakness nor Resentment show;
A Heart like mine, should sooner break than bow.
--Come, my _Semiris_, we too long have stay'd;
That Call, till now, was never disobey'd.

[_Trumpets sound. Ex_.


SCENE III. _Scythian Tents_.

_Enter_ Amintas, _drest fine, with_ Urania.

_Ura_. Within this Shade till the black Day be past,
I will attend thy Fortune, or thy Fate.

_Amin_. The King has taken Horse, the Fight's begun,
And I must leave thee to the Gods and Prayer.

_Ura_. Why was I made a Woman? or being so,
Why had I not a masculine Courage given me?
That side by side I might have shar'd thy Glory,
Or have expir'd together?

_Amin_. Thou wilt undo me with this Tenderness.
Come send me kindly from thee,
With Joys about my Heart that may preserve it;
Here rest till my Return; farewel, my Fair.

_Ura_. And if I never see thee more, farewel--
[Amin. _exit_.
Here I will lay me down, and never rise,
Till thou return'st with Laurel, or with Cypress.
[_Sits down_.
Now I cou'd curse the Fortune of my Prince,
Who quits a Father for an Enemy,
To satisfy a Flame will ruin him.
[_A noise of Fighting_.
--The Fight increases; Oh ye Gods of Battel,
In midst of all your Rage preserve my Love.

_Enter_ Artabazes _over the Stage, and goes out_.

_Art_. My Nephew kill'd! and I dismounted too! oh curst Fate!

_Ura_. This Noise has comfort in't, it sounds like Victory.

[_A hollowing within amongst the noise of Fighting.
Enter_ Amintas.

--Oh Gods! _Amintas_! what has Fortune done?

_Amin_. The undaunted _Scythians_ never lost the Field;
Yet now at first 'twas doubtful
To which side Fortune would incline her self
_Ismenes_ kill'd where'er he turn'd his Sword,
And quite defeated our _Agrippian_ Forces;
Yet was not satisfy'd, knowing the King
To be the Price of _Cleomena's_ Heart,
But sought him out on all sides,
Whom 'twas not hard to find;
For he was hurrying now from Rank to Rank,
Distributing a Death to all Opposers.
But young _Ismenes_ having pierc'd the Squadrons,
And knowing our great King by several Marks,
Boldly cry'd out,--Defend the Life I claim.
The King made no Reply, but at that Word
Prepar'd himself to fight.

_Ura_. Thou kill'st me, till thou bring'st him off again.

_Amin_. Disorder'd thus--the _Dacian_ took Advantage,
And charg'd with so much Vigour--we gave Ground;
When on that side the single Combat was,
There appear'd a Body of two thousand Horse,
Led by a Man, whose Looks brought Victory,
And made the conquering Foe retire again:
But when he did perceive the King engag'd,
With unresisted Fury he made up,
And rushing in between them,
Gave the young Prince a blow upon his Head,
That struck him from his Horse.
After this Victory _Thersander's_ Name
Did fly from Mouth to Mouth,
Inspiring every _Scythian_ with new Valour:
He kill'd _Philemon_, and forc'd _Artabazes_
To seek his Safety by his Horse's Flight;
--But here's the King--retire into this Wood.
[Ura. _Ex_.

_Enter_ King, Thersander, _Officers, and Soldiers_.

_King_. Let me once more embrace my dear _Thersander_.

_Amin_. The Prince is wounded, Sir.

_King_. He is--but they look lovely on him.

_Ther_. They're too slight Marks to give you of my Duty;
Your Majesty has greater need of Care.

_King_. Thou art my best Physician, and thy sight
Heals all the Wounds I have: come in with me,
And let me lay thee to my panting Bosom,
Thou great Preserver of my Crown and Life.

_Ther_. I'll wait upon you, Sir,
[_Exeunt all but_ Ther. _and_ Amin.
Now let me take thee to my Arms, my Friend;
For thou art half my self, my dear _Amintas_:
I have strange News to tell thee since we parted,
And need thy Counsel in an Affair of Love
--Thou know'st my business to the Dacian Court
Was to have set thee free; but oh, my Friend!
In lieu of that I've made my self a Captive.

_Amin_. Your Story, Sir, I know, but heard withal,
The Princess did repay your grateful Flame.

_Ther_. I thought she did, for so a while she seem'd;
And when I thought my self the most secure,
Being fortify'd with all her new-made Promises,
My blooming Hopes were blasted e'er full-blown,
And I receiv'd her Orders for my Banishment,
Which I as soon obey'd: but by the way,
I did conceive a thousand Revolutions,
Sometimes to serve my Princess--then my Father;
Sometimes 'twas Nature got the upper hand,
And then again 'twas Love: in this Dispute
I met the Levies of the _Isadons_,
Who were the last of all our Cavalry,
To whom I made me known, and came so luckily,
As gain'd the yet-disputing Victory.

_Amin_. 'Twas in an happy Moment.

_Ther_. Thus I comply'd with what I ow'd my Duty.
But these of Love are still unsatisfy'd:
Dare I, who could offend to that degree,
As to deserve a Banishment from her,
Approach her uninvited?

_Amin_. 'Twas dangerous, Sir.

_Ther_. Then 'twere the fitter for my Enterprise:
--But her Displeasure--oh, my _Cleomena_!
If, for the Punishment of my Disobedience,
You'd only take away that Life you threaten,
How willingly I wou'd resign it up,
Rather than undergo this Separation!

_Amin_. You'll certainly expose your Life by going:
What other Reason could she have to banish you,
But from her Knowledge that you were _Thersander_?
And, Sir, you see her Passion for _Clemanthis_
Cou'd not o'ercome her Hatred for her Enemy.

_Ther_. No, when I call to mind her cruel Words;
If chusing me before so many Kings,
I find 'twas to the Stranger, not the _Scythian_,
She killingly addrest 'em; therefore I'll venture on in my Design:
--Give order that our Horses be made ready,
Whilst I excuse our Absence to the King; our stay will not be long:
Mean time it may be thought
We're gone to view the Camp;
Interest and Love but rarely do agree,
Yet I must reconcile 'em both to me.

[_Exeunt_.


SCENE IV. _The Dacian Tents_.

_Enter_ Queen, Cleo. Hon. Arta. Ism. _Women, Attendants_.

_Cleo_. 'Twas strangely lost, and yet I dare affirm,
The Victory had been ours but for _Thersander_,
Who like the impetuous Sea oppos'd by Land,
Made Breaches, and o'erflow'd all that lay near it.

_Ism_. I had reveng'd you on the King of _Scythia_,
Had his Arrival not prevented me.

_Cleo_. He is brave, without dispute.

_Ism_. And 'tis as certain that he did surprize me,
Without permitting time for my Defence,
He had not else so soon dismounted me.
But, Madam, I design (if you approve it)
To fight _Thersander_ in a single Combat.

_Art_. That Justice I may hope as well as you;
He kill'd my Nephew, young _Philemon_,
For which I'll be reveng'd.

_Qu_. I cannot but commend that noble Ardor
That carries you to those Designs of Glory;
What thinks my Brother of it?

_Hon_. I like it, if the Victor will accept it.

_Cleo_. And so do I;
And that we may do equal Justice to you all,
We'll write _Thersander's_ Name,
And he who draws that Name shall fight the Combat.

_Hon_. But are you sure he will accept the Offer?

_Ism_. I dare engage he will.

_Cleo_. I am of your Opinion;
The only brave are never proud of Conquest,
I'll write his Name my self.

_Enter_ Page.

_Hon_. What Shouts are these? [_A Shout without_.

_Page_. Madam, _Clemanthis_ is arriv'd.

_Qu_. The News is welcome.

_Enter_ Ther. _kneels, kisses the_ Queen's _Hand;
the same to_ Cleomena--_salutes all_.

_Ther_. Madam, the great Necessity which made me leave you,
When I believ'd my self unprofitable,
Could not detain me when I was assur'd
My Sword could do you Service.

_Qu_. This Visit recompenses all our Loss,
You've made it in a time you may redeem
The Opinion your Absence almost forfeited.

_Hon_. Sir, I cou'd chide you too, but that your Sight
Changes my Anger into kinder Welcomes.

_Ther_. I ought to suffer, Sir, in your Opinion,
Till my Excuses may redeem my Credit.

_Cleo_. How great at once, and innocent he seems,
And how his Eyes his past Offence redeems!
Whilst all my Cruelties they seem t' upbraid,
They pardon too the Faults themselves have made.

_Qu_. I'm satisfy'd, and you are fitly come
To share a Danger we are now disputing.

_Ther_. 'Tis not the Danger, Madam, can divert me
From enterprizing ought that is to serve you.

_Art_. Madam, consider who we are,
And ought not to be rank'd with one below us.

_Ther_. Your Honour, _Artabazes_, is too nice;
Would we could find in this Dispute, whate'er it be,
That were the greatest Difficulty:
--Madam, name your Commands.

_Qu_. We are drawing of a Lot
To fight _Thersander_ in a single Combat.

_Ther_. Hah--_Thersander_, Madam, is a Conqueror.

_Ism_. Since you're so nice, we will excuse you, Sir.

_Ther_. What an unlucky accident was this!
One Moment's longer stay had made me happy, [_Aside_.
And render'd up these Rivals to my Power.

_Hon_. Come, Sir, the Lots are ready.
[_They draw Lots. It falls to_ Ther.

_Ther_. My Fears are all compleated-- [_Aside_.
The Lot is mine.

_Cleo. Clemanthis_, I'm so sensible of the Danger [_Aside to him_.
Whereto you must expose your self for me,
I cannot think with Pleasure on the Victory
You possibly may gain.

_Ther_. Encourag'd thus, I cannot fail of Conquest;
[_Bows to her, and speaks low_.
But, Madam, if _Thersander_ be as nice
[_Turns to the Queen_.
As these two Princes are, it will be hard
To get him to accept a Challenge from me.

_Cleo. Clemanthis'_ Deeds has rais'd his Fame too high
To be esteem'd unworthy of that Justice;
Nor can we find the _Scythian_ Prince a Foe
More equal to his Youth and Valour too.

_Ther_. If Fortune bless me with Success to Day,
I'll owe it to your Cause and not my Sword.

_Qu_. May'st thou be ever Victor. [_They lead him out.
Manent_ Arta. Ism.

_Art_. My Art shall fail me then.

_Ism_. You are displeas'd, Sir.

_Art_. Is that a Wonder?
Who can be tame, and see an unknown Youth,
Who brings no Forces but his single Arm,
Ravish the Hope and Spoil of Victory from us.
And rival us in Love as well as Glory,
Whilst both our Claims to _Cleomena's_ Heart
Must be neglected since we want Success?

_Ism_. We could pretend to her no other way.

_Art_. Have you, or I, less Virtue than _Clemanthis_?

_Ism_. Yes, if we envy at his Merits.

_Art_. Pursue your virtuous Road, and in the end
See whether you or I reach first the Goal.
I'll take Revenge.
[Art. exit.

_Ism_. I Honour will pursue,
A Path which never led me to Repentance.
--_Clemanthis_, if thy Life I basely sought,
Like him, I'd save the Hazard of my own;
But as thou'rt brave, so thou shalt bravely fall
Before _Thersander_ rob me of thy Life,
Or thou the Fortune hast to vanquish him--
And if in this Encounter I expire,
I do but fall a Victim to an hopeless Fire.

[_Exit_.


SCENE V. _Changes to the Wood_.

_Discovers_ Ther. _and_ Amin. _among the Trees, changing
Clothes; after which they come forth_.

_Ther_. So, now thou dost appear so like _Clemanthis_,
That not a _Dacian_ but will be mistaken in thee.

_Amin_. My Lord, I know not how I may appear,
But I am ignorant how I am to act.

_Ther_. Remain within the Covert of this Wood,
Until the Sign be given for the Combat,
And then appear upon the Place appointed,
Where I will meet and fight with thee;
But so I'll order all the Blows I give,
They shall not wound nor hurt thee,
For still remember I must be the Victor.

_Amin_. I will endeavour to perform it so,
[_Noise_.
That none shall know the Fallacy.

_Ther_. Be gone, I hear a Noise; farewel, dear _Amintas_,
Remember that you act Clemanthis well.
[_Ex_. Ther.

_Enter some Fellows in Clokes_.

1 _Fel_. That's he that goes into the Wood, I know him by his Plume; are
ye all ready?

2 _Fel_. Yes, for a greater Murder than the killing of one single Man;
and here's a Place as fit as we could wish; shall we set upon him
altogether?

1 _Fel_. Ay, ay, Neatness in this Affair is not required: kill him, and
_Artabazes_ desires no more.

[The Fellows go behind the Trees, they fight, Amintas falls.

Enter _Ismenes_.

_Ism_. Into this Wood he went, as if he knew my Business,
Here we unseen may end the Difference--
[Noise within.
--Hark--what Noise of fighting's that?
Perhaps my Aid's requir'd.
[_Exit_.

Ism. _goes in, Scene draws open, discovers_ Amintas _lying as dead all
bloody_, Pimante _peeping_; Ism. _re-enters_.

_Ism_. It is _Clemanthis_, and this barbarous Deed
Is done by _Artabazes_.
[_Exit_.

_Enter_ Pimante.

_Pim_. Had ever Cavalier such damn'd Luck? I have heard it disputed, that
this same Danger was to be courted by the Brave and Bold; but I, who took
the best Care I could whilst the Fight lasted to secure my self by this
Retreat, find my self even here surrounded with it; and poor Clemanthis,
who, I'll warrant, came too with my Design, has met here what he
endeavour'd to shun: Yonder's Ismenes too--well, we are all but Men.

_Ism_. Here's yet some Breath remaining; oh, _Pimante_, lend thy
Assistance.
--_Clemanthis_, if thou yet hast so much Sense, Inform us how thou cam'st
thus wounded?

_Amin_. Know, Sir, _Thersander_--Prince of _Scythia_--_Thersander_--
Prince of _Scythia_.
[_Faints_.

_Pim_. Alas, he's dead, Sir, trouble him no further.

_Ism_. The Prince of _Scythia_ do this!

_Pim_. Ay, ay, this mighty Prince fearing to encounter a single Man, has
set a dozen to kill him; Mercy upon us, 'twas a bloody Fight: but, Sir,
what shall we do with the Body?

_Ism_. If I could command thee any thing it should be Silence,
Till I have met _Thersander_ in his Room.
[Ism. _exit_.

_Pim_. You should command me, though I was never good at Secrets.

_Enter_ Cleomena, Semiris.

_Cleo_. Let the Coach wait at the Entrance of the Wood:
I find I am a perfect Woman now,
And have my Fears, and fits of Cowardice.

_Sem_. Madam, will you not see the Combat then?

_Cleo_. I dare not, something here assures me _Clemanthis_ will be
conquer'd.

_Pim_. Ha! the Princess here? on my Conscience there was never Mischief
but a Woman was at one end o'nt.

_Sem_. How now, _Pimante_, why do you look so scurvily?

_Pim_. Ah, Madam, such a Sight so dismal and bloody!

_Cleo_. What says he?

_Pim. Clemanthis_, Madam--

_Cleo. Clemanthis_! Oh, what of him?
Why, my prophetick Heart, dost thou betray me?

_Sem_. For Heaven's sake, Madam, reassume your Courage.

_Cleo_. Yes--I will hear--the fatal Story--out.

_Pim_. Truth is, Madam, to retire from the Noise and Fury of the Battle,
I came into this Wood; and when I thought all Danger past, I heard even
here the Noise of Swords and Fighting; which endeavouring to avoid, I
fell almost into the Danger of them.

_Sem_. Leave out the History of your own Fears, and come to the Business.

_Pim_. But ah, Madam, unseen I saw: who did I see--
Ah, who should I see but _Clemanthis_, Madam,
Fixt with his Back against yon Cypress-tree,
Defending himself against a dozen Murderers.
I was, alas, too weak to take the weaker side,
And therefore came not forth to his Assistance.
Prince _Ismenes_ would have taken his Part, but came too late too;
But e'er he died we begg'd to know his Murderers,
And he could answer nothing but--_Thersander_.

_Cleo_. Remove me to the Body of my Love--

[_They lead her to_ Amin. _who lies wounded; she
gazes on him a while, his Face being all bloody_.

--I will not now deplore as Women use,
But call up all my Vengeance to my Aid.
Expect not so much Imbecillity--
From her whose Love nor Courage was made known
Sufficiently to thee. Oh, my _Clemanthis_!
I wou'd not now survive thee,
Were it not weak and cowardly to die,
And leave thee unreveng'd.
--Be calm, my Eyes, and let my Soul supply ye;
A silent broken Heart must be his Sacrifice:
Ev'ry indifferent Sorrow claims our Tears,
Mine do require Blood, and 'tis with that
These must be washt away--
[_Rises, wipes her Eyes_.
Whatever I design to execute,
Pimante, and Semiris, I conjure ye,
Go not about to hinder, but be silent,
Or I will send my Dagger to this Heart.
Remove this Body further into the Wood,
And strip it of these glittering Ornaments,
And let me personate this dear dead Prince.
Obey, and dress me strait without reply.
There is not far from hence a Druid's Cell,
A Man for Piety and Knowledge famous:
Thither convey the breathless sacred Corps,
Laid gently in my Chariot,
There to be kept conceal'd till further Orders.

_Sem_. Ah, Madam, what is't you intend to do?

_Cleo_. What shou'd I do but die--ah! do not weep,
But haste to do as I command ye:
Haste, haste, the Time and my Revenge require it.

_Sem_. For Heaven's sake, Madam, for your royal self,
Do not pursue this cruel fatal Enterprize;
Pity the Queen, your Servants, and all Mankind.

_Cleo_. Away, thou feeble thing, that never knew'st the
real Joys of Love,
Or ever heard of any Grief like mine;
If thou wou'dst give me Proofs of thy Esteem,
Forget all Words, all Language, but Revenge.
Let me not see so much of Woman in thee
To shed one Tear, but dress thy Eyes with fierceness,
And send me forth to meet my Love, as gay,
As if intended for my nuptial Day.
That Soul that sighs in pity of my Fate,
Shall meet returns of my extremes! Hate:
Pity with my Revenge must find no room;
I'll bury all but Rage within thy Tomb.

[_Exeunt_.



ACT IV.


SCENE I. _A Flat Wood_.

_Enter_ Cleomena _drest in_ Clemanthis's _Clothes_, Semiris
_bearing the Cap and Feather_, Pimante _the Sword_.

_Cleo_. Come, my _Semiris_, you must assist a little,
And you, _Pimante_, buckle on my Sword.

_Pim_. I never parted with a Sword so unwillingly in my Life.

_Cleo_. So--How dost thou like me now?
Might I not pass, thus habited, for _Clemanthis_?

_Pim_. Yes, Madam, till you come to the fighting part.

_Cleo_. Now go, and do as I have ordered you.

_Sem_. Ah, Madam, though I must not wait on you to fight,
I will in Death, 'tis my first Act, and last of Disobedience.
[_Weeps_.

_Cleo_. Do not disturb me with thy Grief, _Semiris_:
Go leave me to my self, and Thoughts of Vengeance:
And thou, base Traitor-Prince, shalt buy thy Life
At such a Rate shall ruin thee for ever;
And if I fall--as I believe I shall--
The very Shame to know I am a Woman,
Shall make thee curse thy Fortune and thy Arms,
If thou hast any Sense of Manhood left,
After the barbarous Murder thou hast done:
But if my better Fortune guide my Arm,
This Arm (whom Love direct) to meet thy Heart,
Then I shall die with real Satisfaction.
The time draws on when I should try my Fate;
Assist me, mighty Love, in my Design,
That I may prove no Passion equals mine.

_Sem_. Madam, consider whom you must encounter.

_Cleo_. Consider thou who's dead, the brave _Clemanthis_!
[_Weeps_.
Oh, 'tis a Shame to weep, being thus attir'd;
Let me once more survey my self--
And yet I need not borrow Resolution:
_Clemanthis_, thou art murder'd, that's the Word,
'Tis that creates me Man, and valiant too,
And all incensed Love can prompt me to.
Hark--hark--the joyful Summons to my Death.
[_Trumpets sound_.
Go, leave me to approach it solemnly--
Come, my dear Sword, from thee I must expect
That Service which my Arm may fail to affect;
And if thou ever did'st thy Master love,
Be sure each Stroke thou mak'st may mortal prove.

[_Exeunt severally_.


SCENE II. _Between the two Camps_.

_After a Noise of Trumpets at some distance and fighting,
the Scene draws, and discovers_ Cleomena _and_ Thersander
_fighting_: Lysander. _On one side stands the_ King of Scythia
_with his Party: on the other, the_ Queen of Dacia, Hon.
Artabazes, _and her Party_: Vallentio.

_Ther_. What mak'st thou to fight as if indeed thou wert _Clemanthis_?
But since thou art not him thou represent'st,
Whoe'er thou be'st, 'twas indiscreetly done,
To draw me from an order might have sav'd thee;
--Whois't that dares assume _Clemanthis'_ shape?
[_They fight_.

_Cleo_. Unworthy _Scythian_, whose reported Valour
Unjustly was admir'd, cou'dst thou believe the covert of the Wood
[Cleo. _falls, he stoops to look on her_.
Cou'd hide thy Treason--Treason which thou durst own too?
[_A cry of Joy on the_ Scythian's _side_.

_Ther_. Ah! _Cleomena_, is it you?
What have I done that could so far transport you?
_Clemanthis'_ Boldness has incur'd your Hate,
But he has been severely punisht for't;
And here in lieu of that unhappy Stranger,
Receive _Thersander_ with his equal Passions,
But not his equal Crimes.

_Cleo_. Oh, Villain, since thou'st punish'd _Clemanthis_,
Punish the unhappy _Cleomena_ too,
And take her Life who came to have taken thine.

_Qu_. 'Tis not _Clemanthis_, but my _Cleomena_--
With whom _Thersander_ fights--ah, cruel Child;
[_They carry her off_.

_Ther_. Oh, whither, whither do you bear my Goddess?
Return, and here resign your sacred Load,
That whilst't has Life it may behold the Sacrifice
That I will make of this wild wretched Man
That has so much offended--Disobey'd!
--My Arms, my Arms, Lysander, mount me strait,
And let me force the disobedient Troops;
Those Coward-Slaves that could behold her bleed,
And not revenge her on the Murderer:
Quickly my Arms, kill, burn, and scatter all;
Whilst 'midst the Ruins of the World I fall.

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A Stephen King fan has published an 80-page version of the book which novelist Jack Torrance obsessively writes during King's The Shining, where his descent into madness is revealed when his wife discovers that his work consists of just one phrase, endlessly repeated.

Torrance, played by Jack Nicholson in terrifying form in Stanley Kubrick's 1980 film, is a frustrated writer who goes with his wife and son to spend the winter in the isolated Overlook Hotel in an attempt to get the novel he has always wanted to write started. But the hotel's grisly past and unquiet ghosts have their way with him, and his wife Wendy eventually finds that the manuscript he has been working on actually only contains the phrase "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy", typed over and over again.

Now New York artist Phil Buehler, who describes himself as "a big fan of Stanley Kubrick and Stephen King", has self-published a book credited to Torrance, repeating the phrase throughout but formatting each page differently, using the words to create different shapes from zigzags to spirals.

"The idea has probably been marinating for years, because I loved the movie and the Stephen King book," said Buehler. "I'd just finished my own obsessive art project [and] it was an idea I had over the Christmas holidays."

He said he decided to stick to type and formatting that could have been created on a typewriter, with the first ten pages duplicating shots of Torrance's work from the film. "I thought 'if he continues to get crazier, what would those pages look like?'" he said. "I hit writer's block about 60 pages in, and I had to get to 80 - that went on for about a week." His fiancée, who had neither read the book nor seen the film, became a little concerned about his actions. "I finally showed her the movie, and she realised I wasn't really losing it," said Buehler.

He's included a spoof review from the blog OverThinkingIt.com on the book's back jacket, which compares it to "the best of Beckett" in its "lack of forward momentum", and considers the struggles of the author, "heroically pitting himself against the Sisyphusean sentence". "It's that metatextual struggle of Man vs. Typewriter that gives this book its spellbinding power," the review says. "Some will dismiss it as simplistic; that's like dismissing a Pollack canvas as mere splatters of paint."

So far, Buehler says that around 1,000 people have viewed the book, for sale on Blurb.com for $8.95 in paperback, or $22.95 in hardback, and he's sold "a few" copies, with sales now starting to pick up steam. "A few people have asked me to sign it - they're looking it as a piece of art rather than a funny thing to give to a Kubrick fan," he said. "If you're not a Kubrick or King fan, you might not even get it."

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