_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 Gods-- _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 shivering 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 Gods! 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 Noble, 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 God 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 God, And I and Geron still will kneel and pray to you. _Ura_. Alas, I am a Woman. _Ors_. A Woman! what’s that? Something more powerful than a Deity; For sure that Word awes me no less than t’other. _Ura_. What can he mean?--oh, I shall die with fear-- [_Aside_. --Sir, I must leave you.