QUEEN. In such an endless maze I rove, My breast with hoarded vengeance burns, With hope engage, And rule my wav'ring soul by turns. PAGE. The path yon verdant field divides, QUEEN. Eleonora, think betimes, What are thy hated rival's crimes! 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! PAGE. 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." QUEEN. Henry returns, from danger free! Here shall the happy nymph detain, The traitress shall bleed ; No pity disarm ; In my rage shall be seen The revenge of a queen." SCENE II. 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. SCENE III. Grideline and Sir Trusty. GRIDELINE. Faithless varlet, art thou there? SIR TRUSTY. My love, my dove, my charming fair! GRIDELINE. Monster, thy wheedling tricks I know. SIR TRUSTY. Why wilt thou call thy turtle so? GRIDELINE. Cheat not me with false caresses. SIR TRUSTY. Let me stop thy mouth with kisses. GRIDELINE. Those to fair Rosamond are due. SIR TRUSTY. She is not half so fair as you. GRIDELINE. She views thee with a lover's eye. SIR TRUSTY. I'll still be thine, and let her die. GRIDELINE. No, no, 'tis plain. Thy frauds I see, SIR TRUSTY. "O Grideline! consult thy glass, Behold that sweet bewitching face, Those blooming cheeks, that lovely hue ! (Charming creature) Will convince you I am true." GRIDELINE. "O how blest were Grideline, The spouse of such a peerless knight!" SIR TRUSTY. At length the storm begins to cease, [Aside. I will if I can. SIR TRUSTY. GRIDELINE. O barbarous man! From whence doth all this passion flow? SIR TRUSTY. "Thou art ugly and old, And a villanous scold." GRIDELINE. "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 ! |