Volume Ii Part 31 (1/2)

_Ors_. But, Geron, still to live! still thus to live In expectation of that future Bliss, (Though I believ'd it) is a sort of Virtue I find the G.o.ds have not inspir'd me with.

_Ger_. Philosophy will teach you, Sir,--

_Ors_. Not to be wise, or happy-- I'll hear no more of your Philosophy.

--Leave me.--for I of late desire to be without thee.

_Ger_. This Disobedience, Sir, offends the G.o.ds--

_Ors_. Let 'em do their worst, For I am weary of the Life they gave.

_Ger_. He grows too wise to be impos'd upon, And I unable to withstand his Reasons.-- [Ger. _goes out_.

[Ors. _lies on the Ground_.

_Enter_ Urania, _and Keeper_.

_Keeper_. The Ring is sufficient Warrant, and your Path on the right Hand will lead you to the Lord _Amintas_-- but have a care you advance no further that way.-- [_Exit Keeper_.

_Ura_. What strange Disorder does possess my Soul!

And how my Blood runs s.h.i.+vering through my Veins, As if, alas, 't had need of all its Aid.

At this encounter with my dear _Amintas_.

_Ors_. Ha! what Noise is that? [_He rouzes_.

_Ura_. I heard a Voice that way--or else it was the fear This gloomy Place possesses all that enter it: --Stay, I was forbad that Walk.

--Heavens! I have forgot which 'twas I should have taken, I'll call my Love to guide me--_Amintas, Amintas_--

_Ors_. What Voice is that?

Methought it had more sweetness in't than _Geron's_-- [_Rises, gazes, then runs fiercely to her_.

--Ha--what charming thing art thou?

_Ura_. 'Tis not _Amintas_--yet I should not fear, He looks above the common rate of Men.

--Sir, can you direct my way To find a Prisoner out they call _Amintas_!

_Ors_.--Oh G.o.ds! it speaks, and smiles, and acts like me; It is a Man, a wondrous lovely Man!

Whom Nature made to please me.

--Fair thing, pray speak again: Thy Voice has Musick in't that does exceed All _Geron's_ Lutes, pray bless my Ears again.

_Ura_. Sir, as you're n.o.ble, as you are a Gentleman, Instruct me where to find my Lord _Amintas_.

_Ors_. Bright Creature! sure thou wert born i'th' upper World, Thy Language is not what we practise here; Speak on, thou Harmony to every Sense, Ravish my Ear as well as Sight and Touch.

_Ura_. Surely he's mad--nay, Sir, you must not touch me.

_Ors_. Perhaps thou art some G.o.d descended hither, [_Retires and bows_.

And cam'st to punish, not to bless thy Creatures?

Instruct me how to adore you so, As to retain you here my Houshold G.o.d, And I and Geron still will kneel and pray to you.

_Ura_. Alas, I am a Woman.