SCENE II. The Scene changes to that Part of the Bower where Sir Trusty lies upon the Ground, with the Bowl and Dagger on the Table. Enter QUEEN. Every star, and every pow'r, Look down on this important hour Help me my Henry to assuage, Mysterious love, uncertain treasure, Kill'd with fears, Endless torments dwell about thee: Yet who would live, and live without thee! But oh the sight my soul alarms : Why am I banish'd from his arms? [Retires to the end of the stage. KING. SCENE III. KING and QUEEN. Some dreadful birth of fate is near Or why, my soul, unus'd to fear, With secret horror dost thou shake? Can dreams such dire impressions make ! What means this solemn, silent show? What shall I say, or whither turn? Crush'd by the thunder of the Gaul? Distracted with woe I'll rush on the foe To seek my relief: The sword or the dart Shall pierce my sad heart, And finish my grief! QUEEN. Fain wou'd my tongue his griefs appease, And give his tortur'd bosom ease. KING. But see! the cause of all my fears, The source of all my grief appears! No unexpected guest is here; The fatal bowl Inform'd my soul Eleonora was too near. QUEEN. Why do I here my lord receive? [Aside. QUEEN. What, in these guilty shades, cou'd you, Inglorious conqueror, pursue? KING. Cruel woman, what cou'd you? QUEEN. Degenerate thoughts have fir'd your breast. KING. The thirst of blood has yours possess'd. QUEEN. A heart so unrepenting, KING. A rage so unrelenting, Will for ever break our rest. KING. Floods of sorrow will I shed To mourn the lovely shade! So bright a bloom, so soft an air, Nor half so sweet the rose. QUEEN. How is his heart with anguish torn! [Aside. My lord, I cannot see you mourn ; The living you lament: while I, To be lamented so, cou'd die. KING. The living! speak, oh speak again! Why will you dally with my pain? QUEEN. Were your lov'd Rosamond alive, Would not my former wrongs revive? KING. Oh no; by visions from above Prepar'd for grief, and freed from love, I came to take my last adieu. QUEEN. How am I bless'd if this be true!— Aside. KING. But O And leave th' unhappy nymph for you. QUEEN. Forbear, my lord, to grieve, And know your Rosamond does live. If 'tis joy to wound a lover, How much more to give him ease? When his passion we discover, Oh how pleasing 'tis to please! The bliss returns, and we receive Transports greater than we give. KING. O quickly relate This riddle of fate! My impatience forgive, Does Rosamond live? QUEEN. The bowl, with drowsy juices fill'd, In borrow'd death has clos'd her eyes: For ever from my fancy fled May the whole world believe her dead, [Aside. That no foul minister of vice But let me live and die with you. QUEEN. How does my heart for such a prize But see your slave, while yet I speak, Believe your Rosamond alive. KING. O happy day! O pleasing view! My queen forgives QUEEN. My lord is true. KING. No more I'll change, QUEEN. No more I'll grieve: BOTH. But ever thus united live. SIR TRUSTY, awaking. In which world am I! all I see, Ev'ry thicket, bush and tree, So like the place from whence I came, That one wou'd swear it were the same. My former legs too, by their pace! |