_Ors_. A new Philosophy inspir’d by Nature, And much above whatever Geron taught. --Come and augment my Knowledge. _Qu_. Why me, Sir, more than any one about you? _Ors_. Thou art all soft and sweet like springing Flowers, And gentle as the undisturbed Air. _Qu_. But I am your Mother. _Ors_. No matter; thou’rt a Woman, art thou not? And being so, the Mother cannot awe me. _Ger_. Sir, ‘tis the Person gave you Life and Being. _Ors_. That gave me Life! oh, how I love thee for’t! Come--and I’ll pay thee back such kind Returns-- _Ger_. Most Royal Sir, this Woman was Not made by Heaven--for you. _Ors_. Away with your Philosophy; but now you said-- I was a King, a mighty God on Earth, And by that Power I may do any thing. _Ger_. But Kings are just as well as powerful, Sir. _Ors_. I am so to my self, do not oppose me. _Ger_. Sir, this one is not meant, not form’d for you. _Ors_. Am I a God, and can be disobey’d? Remove that Contradiction from my sight, And let him live no longer: ha, more Women! [Exit Geron. _Enter_ Olympia _and other Women_. Oh Nature, how thou’st furnish’d me with Store! And finer far than this-- [_Gazes on_ Olympia. --But what is that whose Eyes give Laws to all, And like the Sun, eclipse the lesser Lights? _Qu_. Speak to him, _Olympia_. _Ors_. Who tells me what she is? _Olym_. Oh, how I tremble!--Sir, I am a Maid. _Ors_. A Maid! and may you be approacht with Knees and Prayers [_Kneels_. _Olym_. I am your Slave, you must not kneel to me-- Takes him up. _Ors_. How soon my Glory’s vanisht! Till now I did believe I was some God, And had my Power and my Divinity Within my Will; but by this awful Fear, I find thou art the greater Deity: --Pray tell me, fairest, are you not a Woman? _Olym_. I am a Woman, and a Virgin, Sir. _Ors_. I did believe that thou wert something more, For I have seen a Woman, and ne’er knew So much Disorder in my Soul before: --For every Look of thine gives me a Pain, And draws my Heart out of its wonted Seat. _Olym_. Alas, Sir, have I hurt you? _Ors_. Extremely hurt me, thou hast a secret Power, And canst at distance wound, Which none but Heaven and you cou’d ever do. --But ‘twas my Fault; had I not gaz’d on thee, I had been still a King, and full of Health. --Here--receive this Crown, ‘tis now unfit for me, Since thou hast greater Power--whilst it sits here-- [_He takes off his Crown, and puts it on her_. It looks like Stars fall’n from their proper Sphere: --So, now they’re fixt again. _Qu. Pimante_, speak to him to take it back. _Pim_. He kills me with his Looks. --Sir, when you part with this, you’ll be despis’d; Your Glory, and your Thunder, all will vanish. _Ors_. I yet have something that shall make thee fear, I’m still a King, though I must bow to her; Take him away to Death immediately-- _Pim_. Any where to be out of your Sight-- A King, quotha? [_Exit_.