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SCENE III.
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SCENE III.

King, Queen, Eleonora, Dunbar.
King
, embracing the Queen.
My better Part!—
My Soul's chief Residence!—my Love! my Queen!
Thou hast been tender overmuch, and mourn'd
Ev'n too profusely!

Queen.
Celebrate this Hour
Ye Songs of Angels! and ye Sons of Earth,
Keep Festival!—My Monarch is return'd!
I fold him in these Arms!—I hear his Voice—
His Love soft-chiding!—

King.
O ye Powers benign!
What Words can speak the Rapture of my Soul!
Come to my Breast, where, cherish'd by my Love,
Thy fair Idea rooted, blossoms forth
And twines around my Heart!

Queen.
Mysterious Fate!
My Wishes are compleat!—Yet, I must ask
A thousand Things, impertinently fond!
How did you 'scape?—What Angel's Hand, my King,
Preserv'd you from Destruction?

King.
Heav'n, indeed,
Espous'd my Cause, and sent to my Relief
The Son of March, who, with a chosen Few,
Deliver'd me from Grime:—Thence to the Field

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We speeded, and accomplish'd what the Sword
Of Angus had well nigh atchiev'd before.

Queen
, To Dunbar.
How shall Acknowledgment enough reward
Thy Worth unparallell'd?

King.
Now, by my Throne!
Not my own Issue shall engross me, more
Than thou, heroic Youth!—Th'insulting Foe,
In spite of fresh Supplies, with Slaughter driven
To the steep Hills that bound the Plain, have sent
An Herald, in their Turn, to sue for Peace.—
An Audience have I promis'd.—Ere the Hour
Arrives, I will retire, and in the Bath
Refresh my weary'd Limbs.—

[Exeunt King, Queen, Attendants.