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Which to the soft confinement guides.
Eleonora, think betimes,
What are thy hated rival's crimes !
Whither, ah whither, dost thou go!
What has she done to move thee so!
-Does she not warm with guilty fire
The faithless lord of my desire?
Have not her fatal arts remov'd
My Henry from my arms?
Tis her crime to be lov'd,
'Tis her crime to have charms.
Let us fly, let us fly,
She shall die, she shall die. “I feel, I feel my heart relent, How could the fair, be innocent!
To a monarch like mine,
Who would not resign!
One so great and so brave
All hearts must enslave.”
Hark, hark! what sound invades my ear?
The conqueror's approach I hear.
“He comes, victorious Henry comes !
Hautboys, trumpets, fifes, and drums,
In dreadful concert join'd,
Send from afar
A sound of war,
And fill with horror ev'ry wind.”
Henry returns, from danger free!
Henry returns! — but not to me.
He comes his Rosamond to greet,
And lay his laurels at her feet,
His vows impatient to renew;
His vows to Eleonora due.
Here shall the happy nymph detain,
(While of his absence I complain,)
Hid in her mazy, wanton bower,
My lord, my life, my conqueror.
“No, no, 'tis decreed
The traitress shall bleed;
: No fear shall alarm,
No pity disarm;
In my rage shall be seen
The revenge of a queen.”
The Entry of the Bower. SIR TRUSTY, Knight of the Bower, solus. “How unhappy is he, That is ty'd to a she,
And fam'd for his wit and his beauty! For of us pretty fellows Our wives are so jealous,
They ne'er have enough of our duty.”
But hah! my limbs begin to quiver,
I glow, I burn, I freeze, I shiver;
Whence rises this convulsive strife?
I smell a shrew !
My fears are true,
I see my wife.
GRIDELINE AND SIR TRUSTY:
Faithless varlet, art thou there?
My love, my dove, my charming fair !
Monster, thy wheedling tricks I know,
Why wilt thou call thy turtle so?
Cheat not me with false caresses.
. SIR TRUSTY.
Let me stop thy mouth with kisses.
Those to fair Rosamond are due.
She is not half so fair as you.
She views thee with a lover's eye.
I'll still be thine, and let her die.
No, no, 'tis plain. Thy frauds I see,
Traitor to thy king and me!
“O Grideline! consult thy glass,
Behold that sweet bewitching face,
Those blooming cheeks, that lovely hue!
(Charming creature) Will convince you I am true.”
“O how blest were Grideline,
Could I call Sir Trusty mine!
Did he not cover amorous wiles
With soft, but, ah! deceiving smiles :
How should I revel in delight,
The spouse of such a peerless knight!"
At length the storm begins to cease,
I've sooth'd and flatter'd her to peace.
'Tis now my turn to tyrannise : : [Aside.
I feel, I feel my fury rise !
Tigress, be gone.
GRIDELINE. - I love thee so
I cannot go.
Ini SIR TRUSTY.
Fly from my passion, beldame, fly!
Why so unkind, Sir Trusty, why?
Thou’rt the plague of my life.
I'm a foolish, fond wife..
Let us part,
Let us part.
Will you break my poor heart?
Will you break my poor heart?
I will if I can.
O barbarous man!
From whence doth all this passion flow?
": SIR TRUSTY. “Thou art ugly and old, And a villanous scold.”
“Thou art a rustic to call me so..
I'm not ugly nor old,
Nor a villanous scold,
But thou art a rustic to call me so.
Thou, traitor, adieu !
SIR TRUSTY. “ Farewell, thou shrew!
GRIDELINE “ Thou traitor,
SIR TRUSTY. “Thou shrew,
BOTH. " Adieu! adieu !”
SIR TRUSTY, solus.
How hard is our fate,
Who serve in the state,
And should lay out our cares
On public affairs;
When conjugal toils
And family broils :
Make all our great labours miscarry!
Yet this is the lot
Of him that has got
Fair Rosamond's bower,
With the clew in his power,
And is courted by all,
Both the great and the small,
As principal pimp to the mighty king Harry.
But see, the pensive fair draws near:
I'll at a distance stand and hear.
: ; SCENE IV.
ROSAMOND AND SIR TRUSTY.
From walk to walk, from shade to shade,
From stream to purling stream convey'd,
Through all the mazes of the grove,
Through all the mingling tracts I rove,
Full of grief and full of love.
Impatient for my lord's return,
I sigh, I pine, I rave, I mourn.
“Was ever passion cross'd like mine?
To rend my breast,
. And break my rest,
A thousand thousand ills combine.