Thus let me lose, in rifing joys,

Fierce impatience, fond defires,

Absence that flatt'ring hopes destroys,

And life-consuming fires.

KING,

Not the loud British shout that warms
The warrior's heart, nor clashing arms,
Nor fields with hostile banners strow'd,
Nor life on prostrate Gauls bestow'd,
Give half the joys that fill my breast,
While with my Rosamond I'ın blest.

ROSAROSAMOND.

My Henry is my foul's delight,

My wish by day, my dream by night.

'Tis not in language to impart

The secret meltings of my heart,

While I my conqueror survey,

And look my very foul away.

KING.

O may the present bliss endure,

From fortune, time, and death secure!

BOTH.

O may the present bliss endure !

KING.

My eye could ever gaze, my ear
Those gentle sounds could ever hear:
But oh! with noon-day heats oppreft,
My aking temples call for rest!
In yon cool grotto's artful night
Refreshing slumbers I'll invite,
Then seek again my abfent fair,
With all the love a heart can bear.

ROSAMOND fola.

From whence this sad presaging fear,
This fudden sigh, this falling tear?
Oft in my filent dreams by night

With such a look I've seen him fly,

Wafted by angels to the sky,

And lost in endless tracts of light;

[Exit King.

While I, abandon'd and forlorn,
To dark and dismal deserts borne,
Through lonely wilds have seem'd to stray,
A long, uncomfortable way.

They're fantoms all; I'll think no more:
My life has endless joys in store.
Farewel forroru, farewel fear,
They're fantoms all! my Henry's here.

SCENE

II.

A Poftern Gate of the Bower.

GRIDELINE

and PAGE

GRIDELINE.

My stomach swells with fecret spite,
To see my fickle, faithless Knight,
With upright gesture, goodly mien,
Face of olive, coat of green,
That charm'd the Ladies long ago,
So little his own worth to know,
On a mere girl his thoughts to place,
With dimpled cheeks, and baby face;
A child! a chit! that was not born,
When I did town and court adorn.

VOL. II.

C

PAGE. PAGE.

Can any man prefer fifteen
To venerable Grideline ?

GRIDELINE.

He does, my child; or tell me why

With weeping eye so oft I spy

His whiskers curl'd, and shoe-strings ty'd,

A new toledo by his side,

In shoulder-belt so trimly plac'd,

With band so nicely smooth'd and lac'd.

PAGE.

If Rosamond his garb has view'd,

The Knight is false, the nymph subdu'd,

GRIDELINE.

My anxious boding heart divines

His falshood by a thousand signs:

Oft o'er the lonely rocks he walks,
And to the foolish echo talks:
Oft in the glass he rolls his eye,
But turns and frowns if I am by;

Then my fond easy heart beguiles,
And thinks of Rosamond and smiles.

PAGE.

Well may you feel these soft alarms,
She has a heart

GRIDELINE.

And he has charins.

PAGE.

Open the gate, if you are wises
I, in an unsuspected hour,

May catch 'em dallying in the bower,
Perhaps their loose amours prevent,
And keep Sir Trusty innocent.

GRIDELINE.

Thou art in truth
A forward youth,