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Sir TRUSTY.

O Grideline! confult thy glass,
Behold that freet bewitching face,
Thofe blooming cheeks, that lovely hue!
Ev'ry feature
(Charming creature)
you I am true.

GRIDELINE.

Will convince

O bow bleft were Grideline,
Could I call Sir Trusty mine!
Did he not cover amorous wiles
With foft, but ab! deceiving fmiles :
How should I revel in delight,
The fpoufe of fuch a peerless Knight!
Sir TRUSTY,

At length the storm begins to cease,
I've footh'd and flatter'd her to peace.

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Thou'rt the plague of my life.

Let us part,

Let us part.

Sir TRUSTY.

I'm a foolish fond wife.

GRIDELINE.

I will if I can.

GRIDELINE.

break

my poor heart?

Will you
Will you break my poor heart?

Sir TRUST Y.

Sir TRUST Y.

Thou traitor.

GRIDELINE.

O barbarous man!

From whence doth all this paffion flow?

Sir TRUSTY.

Thou art ugly and old,
And a villainous fcold.

GRIDELINE,

Thou art a ruftic to call me fo.

I'm not ugly nor old,

Nor a villainous fcold,

But thou art a ruftic to call me fo.
Thou, traitor, adieu!

Sir TRUSTY.

Farewel, thou fhrew !

GRIDELINE.

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How hard is our fate,

Who ferve in the state,

And should lay out our cares
On public affairs;
When conjugal toils,
And family broils

Make all our great labours miscarry!
Yet this is the lot

Of him that has got

Fair Rofamond's bower,

With the clew in his power,
And is courted by all,

Both the great and the small,

As principal pimp to the mighty King Harry.

But fee, the penfive fair draws near:
I'll at a distance ftand and hear.

SCENE IV.

[Exit Grid.

ROSAMON D and Sir TRUSTY

ROSAMON D.

From walk to walk, from fhade to fhade,
From ftream to purling ftream convey'd,

Through

Through all the mazes of the grove,
Through all the mingling tracts I rove,

Turning,

Burning,

Changing,
Ranging,

Full of grief and full of love,
Impatient for my Lord's return
I figh, I pine, I rave, I mourn,
Was ever paffion cross'd like mine?
To rend my breast,

And break my reft,

A thousand thousand ills combine.
Abfence wounds me,

Fear furrounds me,
Guilt confounds me,

Was ever paffion crofs'd like mine?

Sir TRUSTY.

What heart of stone

Can hear her moan,

And not in dumps fo doleful join!
ROSAMON D.

How does my conftant grief deface
The pleasures of this happy place!
In vain the spring my fenfes greets

I

n all her colours, all her sweets ;

To me the rofe

No longer glows,

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Every plant
Has loft his fcent;

The vernal blooms of various hue,

The bloffoms fresh with morning dew,

The breeze, that fweeps thefe fragrant bowers,
Fill'd with the breath of op'ning flow'rs,

Purple scenes,

Winding greens,

Glooms inviting,

Birds delighting,

(Nature's fofteft, fweeteft ftore)
Charm my tortur'd foul no more.
Ye powers, Irave, I faint, I die:
Why fo flow! great Henry, why!
From death and alarms
Fly, fly to my arms,

Fly to my arms, my Monarch, fly!

Sir TRUSTY.

How much more bless'd would lovers be,
Did all the whining fools agree

To live like Grideline and me!

ROSAM O N D.

O Rofamond, behold too late,
And tremble at thy future fate!
Curfe this unhappy, guilty face,
Every charm, and every grace,
That to thy ruin made their way,
And led thine innocence aftray:

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