SIR TRUSTY. Fly from my passion, beldame, fly!
GRID. Why so unkind, sir Trusty, why?

SIR TRUSTY. Thou'rt the plague of my life.
GRID. I'm a foolish, fond wife.

SIR TRUSTY. Let us part,

Let us part.

GRID. Will you break my poor heart?

Will you

break my poor heart?

SIR TRUSTY. I will if I can.

GRID. O barbarous man!

From whence doth all this passion flow?

SIR TRUSTY. Thou art ugly and old, And a villanous scold.

GRID. 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!

GRID. Thou traitor.

SIR TRUSTY. Thou shrew!

BOTH. Adieu! Adieu!

SIR TRUSTY solus.

[Exit Grid.

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.

Ros. 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 tracks I rove,

Turning,

Burning,

Changing,

Ranging,

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.

Absence wounds me,

Fear surrounds me,

Guilt confounds me,

Was ever passion cross'd like mine?

VOL. II.

SIR TRUSTY. What heart of stone

Can hear her moan,

And not in dumps so doleful join!

Ros. How does my constant grief deface

The pleasures of this happy place !

In vain the spring my senses greets

In all her colours, all her sweets;
To me the rose

No longer glows,
Every plant

Has lost its scent;

The vernal blooms of various hue,

The blossoms fresh with morning dew,

The breeze, that sweeps these fragrant bow'rs,
Fill'd with the breath of op'ning flow'rs,

Purple scenes,

[Apart.

Winding greens,

Glooms inviting,

Birds delighting,

(Nature's softest, sweetest store,)
Charm my tortur'd soul no more.
Ye powers, I rave, I faint, I die :
Why so slow! great Henry, why!
From death and alarms

Fly, fly to my arms,

Fly to my arms, my monarch fly!

SIR TRUSTY. How much more bless'd would lovers be,

Did all the whining fools agree

To live like Grideline and me

Ros. O Rosamond, behold too late,

And tremble at thy future fate!
Curse this unhappy, guilty face,
Every charm, and every grace,

[Apart.

That to thy ruin made their way,
And led thine innocence astray:

At home thou seest thy queen enraged;
Abroad thy absent lord engaged

In wars, that may our loves disjoin,

And end at once his life and mine.

SIR TRUSTY. Such cold complaints befit a nun:

If she turns honest, I'm undone !
Ros. Beneath some hoary mountain
I'll lay me down and weep,

Or near some warbling fountain
Bewail myself asleep;

Where feather'd choirs combining
With gentle murm❜ring streams,

And winds in consort joining,

Raise sadly-pleasing dreams.

SIR TRUSTY solus.

[Apart.

[Exit Ros.

[Trumpets flourish.

What savage tiger would not pity
A damsel so distress'd and pretty!
But ha! a sound my bower invades,
And echoes through the winding shades;
'Tis Henry's march! the tune I know:
A messenger! It must be so.

SCENE V.

A MESSENGER and SIR TRUSTY.

MES. Great Henry comes! with love opprest;

Prepare to lodge the royal guest.

From purple fields with slaughter spread,

From rivers chok'd with heaps of dead,

From glorious and immortal toils,

Laden with honour, rich with spoils,
Great Henry comes! prepare thy bower

To lodge the mighty conqueror.

SIR TRUSTY. The bower and lady both are drest, And ready to receive their guest.

MESSENGER. Hither the victor flies (his queen

And royal progeny unseen);

Soon as the British shores he reach'd
Hither his foaming courser stretch'd;
And see! his eager steps prevent
The message that himself hath sent!
SIR TRUSTY. Here will I stand
With hat in hand,

Obsequiously to meet him,

And must endeavour,

At behaviour,

That's suitable to greet him.

SCENE VI.

Enter KING HENRY after a flourish of trumpets.

KING. Where is my love! my Rosamond!
SIR TRUSTY. First, as in strictest duty bound,
I kiss your royal hand.

KING. Where is my life! my Rosamond!
SIR TRUSTY. Next with submission most profound,
I welcome you to land!

KING. Where is the tender, charming fair!
SIR TRUSTY. Let me appear, great sir, I pray,
Methodical in what I say.