And, in a convent plac'd, admire
The cloister'd walls and virgin choir:
With them in for gs and hymns divine
The beauteous penitent fhall join,
And bid the guilty world adieu.

Jak no more! fecure the fair

In life and blifs: I afk 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 cenforious world defpife,
Tho' diftant ages, yet unborn,
For Rofamond fhall falfly mourn,
And with the present times agree,
To brand my name with cruelty;
How does my heart for fuch a prize
The vain cenforious world despise!

But

But fee your flave, while yet I fpeak, From his dull trance unfetter'd break!

As he the potion shall survive

Believe your Rofamond alive.

KING.

O happy day! O pleasing view!

My Queen forgives

QUEEN.

-My Lord is true.

KING.

No more I'll change.

QUEEN.

No more I'll grieve:

BOTH.

But ever thus united live.

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

A beart fo unrepenting.

QUEEN.

KING.

A rage fo unrelenting.

BOTH.

Will for ever

Love diffever.

Will for ever break our reft.

KING.

Floods of forrow will I fhed

To mourn the lovely shade!

My Rofamond, 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 fo fweet the rofe.

QUEEN.

How is his heart with anguish torn!
My Lord, I cannot fee you mourn:
The living you lament: while I,

To be lamented fo, cou'd die.

KING.

The living! fpeak, oh speak again!
Why will you dally with my pain!

QUEEN.

Were your lov'd Rosamond alive,

Wou'd not my former wrongs revive?

[Afide.

KING.

Oh no; by vifions from above,

Prepar'd for grief, and freed from love,

I came to take my last adieu,

QUEEN.

How am I blefs'd if this be true!

KING.

And leave th' unhappy nymph for you.

But O!

QUEEN.

Forbear, my Lord, to grieve,

And know your Rofamond does live.
If 'tis joy to wound a lover,
How much more to give him eafe?
When his paffion we discover,

Ob bow pleafing 'tis to please!
The blifs returns, and we receive

Transports greater than we give.

O quickly relate

KING.

This riddle of fate!

My impatience forgive,

Does Rofamond live?

QUEEN.

The bowl with drowfy juices fill'd,
From cold Egyptian drugs diftill'd,
In borrow'd death has clos'd her eyes;
But foon the waking nymph fhall 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.

Iafk no more! fecure the fair

In life and blifs: I afk 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 such a prize
The vain cenforious world defpife,
Tho' diftant ages, yet unborn,
For Rofamond fhall falfly mourn,
And with the present times agree,
To brand my name with cruelty;
How does my heart for fuch a prize
The vain cenforious world defpife!

But