Ger. On Earth it is: your Power too is as great;
Your Frowns destroy, and when you smile you bless;
At every Nod the whole Creation bows,
And lay their grateful Tributes at your Feet;
Their Lives are yours, and when you deign to take ‘em,
There’s not a Mortal dares defend himself:
But that you may the more resemble Heaven,
You should be merciful and bountiful.
Ors. I do believe I am the King thou speak’st of.
Ger. Behold this Crown—this sacred Thing is yours.
[Kneels and gives him the Scepter and Crown; he puts it on, and walks about.
Ors. It is a glorious Object— And fit for none but me—
Olymp. Madam, methinks the King is the finest Man That e’er I saw—shall he not still be King?
Qu. I hope he will deserve it.
Ors. So, now methinks I move like Heaven itself, All circled round with Stars, —Hah! what’s this that kneels?
[The Queen kneels, he snatches her up.
Ger. The Queen your Mother, Sir.—