« EelmineJätka »
At home thou feeft thy Queen enraged,
Such cold complaints befit a nun:
Beneath fome hoary mountain
With gentle murm'ring fireams,
Raife fadly-pleafing dreams.
Sir TRUSTY folus.
What favage tiger would not pity
And echoes through the winding fhades; 'Tis Henry's march! the tune I know: A meffenger! It must be so.
A MESSENGER and Sir TRUST Y.
Great Henry comes! with love oppreft;
Sir TRUSTY. The bower and Lady both are dreft, And ready to receive their guest.
Hither the victor flies, (his Queen
Here will I ftand
With hat in hand,
Obfequiously to meet him,
And muft endeavour
That's fuitable to greet him.
Enter King Henry after a flourish of Trumpets.
Where is my love! my Rofamond!
Next with fubmiffion moft profound,
Where is the tender, charming fair!
Let me appear, great Sir, I pray,
Where is my love, O tell me where !
For when we have a Prince's ear,
For us to speak, and him to hear,
Thefe dull delays, I cannot bear.
Sir TRUST Y.
I fpeak, great Sir, with weeping eyes,
What doft thou fay? I fhake with fear.
Nay, good my liege, with patience hear. She raves, and faints, and dies, 'tis true; But raves, and faints, and dies for
Was ever nymph like Rofamond,
I'm all defire!
My heart's on fire,
And leaps and springs to her embrace.
At the fight of her lover
What place will you choose
Full in the center of the grove,
Your Highness, Sir, as I prefume,
Mean-while with due attention wait
To guard the bower, and watch the gate;
Nor fenfelefs pomp, nor noise intrude
But pleasure reign through all the grove,
Oh the pleafing pleasing anguish
Thoughts furprising !
O the pleafing, pleafing anguifb!