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GRIDELINE.
Thou art in truth

A forward youth,
Of wit and parts above thy age ;
Thou know'st our sex. Thou art a page.

PAGE.

I'll do what I can
To surprise the false man.

GRIDELINE.
Of such a faithful spy I've needt:
Go in, and if thy plot succeed,
Fair youth, thou may'st depend on this,
I'll pay thy service with a kiss. [Exit Page.

GRIDELINE sola.
6 Prithee, Cupid, no more
Hurl thy dart at threescore,
To thy girls and thy boys
Give thy pains and thy joys,
Let Sir Trusty and me
From thy frolics be free.

[Exit Grid

SCENE III.

PAGE solus.
the soft delicious view,
Eyer charming ever new!
Greens of various shades arise,
Deck'd with flow'rs of various dies :
Paths by meeting paths are crost,
Alleys in winding alleys lost;
Fountains playing through the trees,
Give coolness to the passing breeze.

† An opening scene discovers another view of the bower.

6 A thousand fairy scenes appear,
Here a grove, a grotto here,
Here a rock, and here a stream,

Sweet delusion,

Gay confusion,
All a vision, all a dream !"

SCENE IV.

Queen and Page.

QUEEN.
At length the bow'ry vaults appear!
My bosom heaves, and pants with fear :
A thousand checks my heart control,
A thousand terrors shake my soul.'

PAGE.

Behold the brazen gate unbarr'd!
-She's fix'd in thought, I am not heard

[Apart.
QUEEN.
I see, I see my hands imbru'd
In purple streams of reeking blood :
I see the victim gasp for breath,
And start in agonies of death :
I see my raging, dying lord,
And, oh! I see myself abhorr'd!

PAGE.

[Aside.

My eyes o’erflow, my heart is rent
To hear Britannia's queen lament.

QUEEN.
What shall my trembling soul pursue?

PAGE.

Behold, great queen, the place in view !

QUEEN
Ye pow'rs instruct me what to do !

PAGE.
That bow'r will show
The guilty foe.

QUEEN. It is decreed-it shall be so; [After a pause. 6 I cannot see my lord repine (O that I could call him mine !) Why have not they most charms to move, Whose bosoms burn with purest love !"

PAGE.

Her heart with rage and fondness glows.
O jealousy thou hell of woes !

[Aside.
That conscious scene of love contains
The fatal cause of all your pains ;
In yonder flow'ry vale she lies,
Where those fair-blossom’d arbours rise.

QUEEN.
Let us haste to destroy

Her guilt and her joy.
« Wild and frantic is my grief!

Fury driving,

Mercy striving,
Heaven in pity send relief!

The
pang's

of love
Ye pow'r's remove,
Or dart your thunder at my head :

Love and despair

What heart can bear? Ease my soul, or strike me dead!'

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

The Scene changes to the Pavilion as before.

ROSAMOND sola.
“ Transporting pleasure! who can tell it !

When our longing eyes discover

The kind, the dear, approaching lover,
Who can utter, or conceal it !"

A sudden motion shakes the grove :
I hear the steps of him I love;
Prepare, my soul, to meet thy bliss !
-Death to my eyes; what sight is this !
The queen, th' offended queen I see;
-Open, 0 earth! and swallow me!

SCENE VI.

Enter to her the Queen with a Bowl in one hand, and a

Dagger in the other.

QUEEN.
Thus arm'd with double death I come :
Behold, vain wretch, behold thy doom!
Thy crimes to their full period tend,
And soon by this, or this, shall end.

ROSAMOND.
What shall I say, or how reply
To threats of injur'd majesty ?

QUEEN,
'Tis guilt that does thy tongue control.
Or quickly drain the fatal bowl,
Or this right hand performs its part,
And plants a dagger in thy heart.

ROSAMOND.

Can Britain's queen give such commands,
Or dip in blood those sacred hands?
In her shall such revenge be seen ?
Far be that from Britain's queen!

QUEEN.
How black does my design appear?
Was ever mercy so severe ?

Aside.

ROSAMOND.

« When tides of youthful blood run high, And scenes of promis'd joys are nigh,

Health presuming,

Beauty blooming,
Oh how dreadful 'tis to die!"

QUEEN.
To those whom foul dishonours stain,
Life itself should be a pain.

ROSAMOND.
Who could resist great Henry's charms,
And drive the hero from her arms ?

“ Think on the soft, the tender fires,
Melting thoughts, and gay desires,
That in your own warm bosom rise,
When languishing with love-sick eyes
That great, that charming man you see :
Think on yourself, and pity me!"

QUEEN.
And dost thou thus thy guilt deplore !

[Offering the dagger to her breast. Presumptuous woman! plead no more !

ROSAMOND.

O queen, your lifted arm restrain!
Behold these tears!

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