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As o'er the hollow vaults we walk, *
From hill to bill the voice is toff,
PA G E.
PAGE, There does the pensive beauty mourn, And languish for her Lord's return.
QUEEN Death and confusion! I'm too flowShow me the happy mansion, show
PA G E. Great Henry there
QUE E N.
* Alluding to the famous echo in Woodstock-Park.
My wrath, like that of heav'n, thall rise,
The bower, that wander's
Shades on sbades,
My breast with hoarded vengeance burns,
Have not her fatal arts remov'd
'Tis her crime to be lov'd,
She shall die, she shall die.
To a monarch like mine,
P A G E.
He comes, viltorious Henry comes !
Send from afar
A found of war,
but not to me.
Here shall the happy nympii'd til,
No, no, 'tis decreed
Sir TRUSTY, Knight of the Bower, folur.
How happy is he,
And fam'd for his wit and his beauty!
They ne'er have enough of our duty.
Whence rises this conyulsive strife?
I smell a shrew !
GRID E LINE and Sir TRUST Y.
GRID E L I N E. Faithless varlet, art thou there?
Sir T RUS T r. My love; my dove, my charming fair !
GRID ELIN E. Monster, thy wheedling tricks I know.
Sir T RUST Y. Why wilt thou call thy turtle fo?
GR I DELI N E. Cheat me not with false caresses.
Sir TRUST Y. Let me stop thy mouth with kisses.
GRIDELINE. Those to fair Rofamond are due.
Sir TRUST Y. She is not half so fair as you.
GRIDELINE. She views thee with a lover's eye.
Sir T RUSTY I'll be thine, and let her die.
GRID E L I N E. No, no, 'tis plain. Thy frauds I see, Traitor to thy King and ine!