Absence wounds me,
Fear surrounds me,
Guilt confounds me,

Was ever passion cross'd like mine?"

SIR TRUSTY.
What heart of stone
Can hear her moan,

And not in dumps so doleful join!

ROSAMOND.

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:

[Apart.

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,
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 blest would lovers be,
Did all the whining fools agree
To live like Grideline and me!

ROSAMOND.

O Rosamond, behold too late,
And tremble at thy future fate!

[Apart.

Curse this unhappy, guilty face,
Every charm, and every grace,
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 !

ROSAMOND.

"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,

[Apart.

Raise sadly-pleasing dreams." [Exit. Ros.
SIR TRUSTY, solus.

What savage tiger would not pity

A damsel so distress'd and pretty!

But, hah! a sound my bower invades, [Trump. flour. And echoes through the winding shades; 'Tis Henry's march! the tune I know:

A messenger! It must be so.

SCENE V.

MESSENGER AND SIR TRUSTY.

MESSENGER.

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,
Loaden 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 reached,
Hither his foaming courser stretched:
And see! his eager steps prevent

The message that himself hath sent!

SIR TRUSTY.

Here I will 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.

KING.

Where is my love, O tell me where?

SIR TRUSTY.

For when we have a prince's ear,
We should have wit,

To know what's fit

For us to speak, and him to hear.

KING.

These dull delays I cannot bear.
Where is my love! O tell me where?

SIR TRUSTY.

I speak, great Sir, with weeping eyes,
She raves, alas! she faints, she dies.

KING.

What dost thou say? I shake with fear.

SIR TRUSTY.

Nay, good my liege, with patience hear.
She raves, and faints, and dies, 'tis true;
But raves, and faints, and dies for you.

KING.

"Was ever nymph like Rosamond,
So fair, so faithful, and so fond,
Adorn'd with ev'ry charm and grace!
I'm all desire!

My heart's on fire,

And leaps and springs to her embrace."

SIR TRUSTY.

At the sight of her lover
She'll quickly recover.

What place will you chuse
For first interviews?

KING.

Full in the centre of the grove,
In yon pavilion made for love,
Where woodbines, roses, jessamines,
Amaranths, and eglantines,
G

VOL. VI.

To guard the bower, and watch the gate.
Let neither envy, grief, nor fear, ched,
Nor love-sick jealousy appear beadT
Nor senseless pomp, nor noise intrude
On this delicious solitude;

But pleasure reign through all
all the
And all be peace and all be love.
891b 90 et 900 less

grove i

"O the pleasing, pleasing anguish, When we love, and when we languish! Wishes rising!

Thoughts surprising!

Pleasure courting!

Charms

transporting!

Fancy viewing

Joys ensuing!

O the pleasing, pleasing anguish!"