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Sir TRUSTY.
O Grideline ! consult thy glass,
Bebold that sweet bewitching face,
Those blooming cheeks, that lovely bue !

Ev'ry feature

(Charming creature) Will convince you I am true.

GRIDE LINE,
O bow bleft were Grideline,
Could I call Sir Trusty mine!
Did he not cover amorous wiles
With foft, but ab! deceiving smiles :
How should I revel in delight,
The spouse of such a peerless Knight!

Sir I RUSTY,
At length the storm begins to cease,
I've footh'd and flatter'd her to peace.
Tis now my turn to tyrannize:
I feel, I feel my fury rise !
Tigress, be gone.

GRID E L IN E.
I love thee so,
I cannot go.

Sir TRUSTY.
Fly from my passion, Beldame, fly!

GRID E L IN E. Why so unkind, Sir Trusty, why?

[Afide Sir TRUST Y. Thou’rt the plague of my life.

GRID ELI NE. I'm a foolish fond wife.

Sir T RUSTY.

Let us part, Let us part.

GRID ELIN E. Will you break

my poor heart? Will you break

my poor heart?

Sir T R US Tr. I will if I can.

GRID ELIN E.
O barbarous man!
From whence doth all this passion flow?

Sir T RUST Y.
Thou art ugly and old,
And a villainous scold.

GRID ELIN E
Thou art a rustic to call me fo.
I'm not ugly nor old,
Nor a villainous fcold,
But thou art a rustic to call me so.
Thou, traitor, adieu !

Sir T RUSTY.
Farewel, thou forew !

GR IDELINE. Thou traitor.

Sir TRUSTY. Thou forew !

BOT H.
Adieu! Adieu !

[Exit Grid.
Sir TRUST r solus,
How hard is our fate,
Who serve 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 Rosamond'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 see, the pensive fair draws near :
I'll at a diftance stand and hear.

SCENE IV.

ROSAMOND and Sir T&USTI

ROS A MO N D. From walk to walk, from shade to shade, From stream to purling stream 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 sigh, I pine, I rave, I mourn,
Was ever pasion cross'd like mine?

To rend my breast,
And break my reft,
A thousand thousand ills combine.
Absence wounds me,
Fear surrounds me,

Guilt confounds me,
Was ever pafhon cross'd like mine?

Sir TRUSTY.
What heart of stone

Can hear her moan,
And not in dumps so doleful join!

ROS A MO N D.
How does my constant grief deface
The pleasures of this happy place!
In vain the spring my senses greets
In
'n all her colours, all her sweets ;

To me the rose
No longer glows,

Aparts

Every plant

Has lost his scent ;
The vernal blooms of various hue,
The blossoms fresh with morning dew,
The breeze, that sweeps thefe fragrant bowers,
Filld with the breath of op’ning flowʻrs,

Purple scenes,
Winding greens,
Glooms inviting,

Birds delighting,
(Nature's softest, sweetest store)
Charm my tortur'd soul no more.
Ye powers, I rave, I faint, I die:
W by so flow! great Henry, why !

From death and alarms

Fly, fly to my arms,
Fly to my arms, my Monarch, fly!

Sir T R US Tr.
How much more bless'd would lovers be,
Did all the whining fools agree
To live like Grideline and me !

[ Apart.
ROS A MO N D.
O Rofamond, behold too late,
And tremble at thy future fate!
Curse this unhappy, guilty face,
Every charm, and every grace,
That to thy ruin made their way,
And led thine innocence astray:

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