« EelmineJätka »
Of wit and parts above thy age ;
'Thou know'ít our sex. Thou art a page.
P A G E.
I'll do what I can
To surprise the false man.
GRID ELIN E.
Of such a faithful spy I've need : *
Go in, and if thy plot fucceed,
Fair youth, thou may'st depend on this,
I'll pay thy service with a kiss.
Prythee, Cupid, no more
Hurl thy darts at threescore,
To thy girls and thy boys
Give thy pains, and thy joys,
Let Sir Trusty and me
From thy frolics be free.
o the soft delicious view,
Ever charming, ever new!
Greens of various shades arise,
Deck'd with flow'rs of various dyes;
Paths by meeting paths are croft,
Alleys in winding alleys left;
* An opening scene discovers another view of the bower.
Fountains playing through the trees,
Give coolness to the passing breeze.
A thousand fairy scenes appear,
Here a grove, a grotto bere,
Here a rock, and bere a fream,
Alla vifon, all a dream!
At length the bow'ry vaults appear !
My bosom heaves, and pants with fear :
A thousand checks my heart controul,
A thousand terrors. shake
Behold the brazen gate unbard!
-She's fixt in thought, I am not heard
I see, I fee
In purple streams of reeking blood:
I see the vi&tim gasp for breath,
And start in agonies of death:
I see my raging dying Lord,
And O, I see myself abhorr'de
P A G E. My eyes o'erflow, my heart is rent To hear Brittania's Queen lament.
[ Afidir. QUEEN. What shall my trembling foul pursue?
Behold, great Queen, the place in view!
Ye powrs instruct me what to do!
PA G E.
That bow'r will show
The guilty foe.
QUE E N.
It is decreed it fhall be fo; (After a pause.
I cannot see my Lord repine,
(O that I could call him mine !)
Why have not they most charms to move,
Wbose bosoms burn with purest love!
Her heart with rage and fondness glows,
O jealousy! thou hell of woes!
That conscious scene of love contains
The fatal cause of all your pains:
In yonder flow'ry vale she lies,
Where those fair blossom'd arbours rise.
Let us hafte to destroy
Her guilt and her joy.
Wild and frantic is my grief!
Mercy friving, Heaven in pity send relief!
The pangs of love,
Ye pow'rs renove,
Or dart your thunder at my. head:
Love and despair
What beart can bear! Ease my soul, or strike me dead !
The Scene changes to the Pavilion as before.
ROSAMOND Sola. Transporting pleasure, who can tell, it!
When our longing eyes discover
Tbe kind, the dear, approaching lover,
Who can utter, or conceal it!
A sudden motion shakes the grove:
I hear the steps of him I love;
Prepare, my soul, to meet thy bliss !
-Death to my eyes ; what light is this!
The Queen, th' offended Queen I see !
-Open, O earth! and swallow me!
Enter 19 her the QUEEN with a bowl in one hand,
and a dagger in the o:ber.
Thus arm'd with double death I come:
Behold, vain wretch, behold thy doom.
Thy crimes in their full period tend,
Os loon by this, or this shall end.
ROSA MO N D.
What shall I say, or how reply
To threats of injur’d Majesty?
Tis guilt that does thy tongue controul.
Or quickly drain the fatal bowl,
Or this right hand performs its part,
And plants a dagger in thy heart.
Can Britain's Queen give-such commands,
Or dip in blood those facred hands?
In her shall such revenge be seen?
Far be that from Britain's Queen!
QUE E N.
How black does my design appear!
Was ever mercy fo fevere?
Afde. ROS A MOND. Wben tides of youthful b lood runs bigb, And scenes of promis'd joys are nigke,