QUEEN. They flow in vain. ROSAMOND. Look with compassion on my fate! O hear my sighs! QUEEN. They rise too late, Hope not a day's, an hour's reprieve. ROSAMOND. Though I live wretched, let me live. QUEEN. "Moving language, shining tears, Glowing guilt, and graceful fears, Kindling pity, kindling rage, At once provoke me, and assuage." [Aside. ROSAMOND. What shall I do to pacify Your kindled vengeance? QUEEN. Thou shalt die. [Offering the dagger. ROSAMOND. Give me but one short moment's stay. -O Henry! why so far away? Prepare to welter in a flood [Aside. QUEEN. Of streaming gore. [Offering the dagger. ROSAMOND. O spare my blood, And let me grasp the deadly bowl. [Takes the bowl in her hand. "Accept, great queen, like injur'd heaven, The soul that begs to be forgiven : If in the latest gasp of breath, If in the dreadful pains of death, When the cold damp bedews your brow, QUEEN. Mercy to lighter crimes is due, Horrors and death shall thine pursue. [Offering the dagger. ROSAMOND. Thus I prevent the fatal blow. -Whither, ah! whither shall I go! QUEEN. Where thy past life thou shalt lament, ROSAMOND. Tyrant to aggravate the stroke, [Drinks With hideous screams I'll haunt thy dreams, And when the painful night withdraws, My Henry shall revenge my cause." O whither does my frenzy drive! Forgive my rage, your wrongs forgive. QUEEN. [Falls on the couch. Hear and observe your queen's commands. [To her attendants. Beneath those hills a convent stands, The due solemnities prepare. [Exeunt with the body. "When vanquish'd foes beneath us lie How great it is to bid them die ! But how much greater to forgive, [Exit. SCENE VII. SIR TRUSTY in a fright. A breathless corpse! what have I seen! No! though I hate such bitter beer, Fair Rosamond, I'll pledge thee here. [Drinks, The king this doleful news shall read In lines of my inditing: 'Great Sir, Your Rosamond is dead 'As I am at this present writing.' [Writes. "The bower turns round, my brain's abus'd, [Staggers and falls. SCENE VIII. QUEEN sola. The conflict of my mind is o'er, Ye pains that wait On jealousy, the rage of love. "My Henry shall be mine alone, The hero shall be all my own; Nobler joys possess my heart Than crowns and sceptres can impart." ACT III. SCENE I. Scene a Grotto. Henry asleep, a cloud descends, in it two Angels, supposed to be the guardian Spirits of the British Kings in War and in Peace. FIRST ANGEL. BEHOLD th' unhappy monarch there' SECOND ANGEL. In fields of death around his head FIRST ANGEL. In hours of peace, unseen, unknown, SECOND ANGEL. When hosts of foes with foes engage, FIRST ANGEL. When dark fermenting factions swell, BOTH. But oh what influence can remove SECOND ANGEL. I'll fire his soul with mighty themes, Till love before ambition fly. |