And, in a convent plac'd, admire
The cloister'd walls and virgin choir:
With them in fongs and hymns divine

The beauteous penitent shall join,

And bid the guilty world adieu.

I afk no more! fecure the fair

In life and bliss: I afk not where:
For ever from my fancy fled,

May the whole world believe her dead.
That no foul minister of vice

Again my finking foul intice
Its broken paffion to renew,

But let me live and die with you.

QUEEN.

How does my heart for fuch a prize
The vain censorious world defpife,
Tho' diftant ages, yet unborn,
For Rosamond shall falfly mourn,
And with the present times agree,
To brand my name with cruelty;
How does my heart for such a prize
The vain cenforious world despise!

But

But see your slave, while yet I speak,
From his dull trance unfetter'd break!

As he the potion shall survive
Believe your Rofamond alive.

Sir TRUSTY awaking,

In which world am I! all I fee,

Ev'ry thicket, bush and tree,

So like the place from whence I came;
That one wou'd fwear it were the fame.
My former legs too, by their pace!
And by the whiskers, 'tis my face!
The self-fame habit, garb and mien!
They ne'er wou'd bury me in green.

VOL. II.

D

SCENE

QUEEN.

A heart so unrepenting.

KING.

A rage so unrelenting.

BOTH.

Will for ever

Love dissever.

Will for ever break our reft.

KING.

Floods of forrow will I shed

To inourn the lovely shade!

My Rosamond, alas, is dead,

And where, O where convey'd!

So bright a bloom, so soft an air,

Did ever nymph disclose!

The lily was not half fo fair,

Nor half so sweet the rofe.

KING.

Oh no; by visions from above,

Prepar'd for grief, and freed from love,
I came to take my last adieu,

QUEEN.

How am I bless'd if this be true!

KING.

And leave th' unhappy nymph for you.
But O!

QUEEN.

Forbear, my Lord, to grieve,
And know your Rosamond does live.

If 'tis joy to wound a lover,

How much more to give him ease?

When his passion we discover,

Ob how pleafing 'tis to please!

The bliss returns, and we receive
Transports greater than we give.

KING.

O quickly relate

This riddle of fate!

My impatience forgive,

Does Rosamond live?

QUEEN.

The bowl with drowsy juices fill'd,
From cold Egyptian drugs distill'd,
In borrow'd death has clos'd her eyes;
But foon the waking nymph shall rife,

[Afide

And

And, in a convent plac'd, admire
The cloister'd walls and virgin choir :
With them in fongs and hymns divine
The beauteous penitent shall join,

And bid the guilty world adieu.

I afk no more! fecure the fair

In life and bliss: I ask not where:

For ever from my fancy fled,

May the whole world believe her dead.
That no foul minifter of vice

Again my finking foul intice
Its broken paffion to renew,

But let me live and die with you.

QUEEN.

How does my heart for fuch a prize
The vain censorious world defpife,
Tho' diftant ages, yet unborn,
For Rofamond shall falfly mourn,
And with the present times agree,
To brand my name with cruelty;
How does my heart for such a prize
The vain cenforious world despise!

But