Volume Ii Part 37 (1/2)

_Ors_. I say again, I'll have it fit for two: Thou art a Woman, thank the G.o.ds for that: --Ascend, my lovely Virgin, and adorn it; Ascend, and be immortal as my self.

_Art_. That Throne she was not born to.

_Ors_. Into the Sea with that bold Counsellor, And let him there dispute with Winds and Waves. [_Art. ex_.

_Being seated on a Throne, enter several in Masquerades, and dance_.

--Cou'd I be sensible of any Pleasure, But what I take in thee, this had surpriz'd me.

_Olym_. A Banquet, Sir, attends you.

_Ors_. Dispose me as you please, my lovely Virgin; For I've resign'd my Being to your Will, And have no more of what I call my own, Than Sense of Joys and Pains, which you create.

[_They rise, and sit down at a Banquet. He gazes on her_.

_Olym_. Will you not please to eat?

_Ors_. It is too gross a Pleasure for a King.

Sure, if they eat, 'tis some celestial Food, As I do by gazing on thy Eyes-- Ah, lovely Maid--

_Olym_. Why do you sigh, Sir?

_Ors_. For something which I want; yet having thee, What more can Heaven bestow to gratify My Soul and Sense withal?

_Olym_. Sir, taste this Wine; Perhaps 'twill alter that deceiv'd Opinion, And let you know the Error of your Pa.s.sion; 'Twill cause at least some Alteration in you.

_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 G.o.ds, 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 G.o.ds, 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.