 | The English Princess, or, the death of Richard the III |  |
SCENA IV.
Enter Mrs. Stanly, and Charlot.Char.
He robs her both of Crown, and Libertie!
Can he the Gaoler of his Mistris be?
To promise Love, and thus to break his Vow,
Is all the Treason, that a King can do.
Mrs. Stanly.
He, like the worst of Thieves, means farther ill;
For Tyrants after robbing always kill.
The Sacrilegious Monster will devour
The Saint, whom he so lately did adore.
Char.
Avert it powerful Heaven! such Cruelty
Must not live long, nor so much Vertue dye.
Her glorious Champion now draws neer, and he
Killing the Gaoler will the Pris'ner free.
And, Madam, to divert the painful thought
Of her Restraint, I have some musick brought:
Musick I know, will not ungrateful be
To her, whose Soul is perfect Harmony.
Mrs. Stanly.
In this you will our Princess highly please;
And at this distance she can hear with Ease.
30
SONG.
With her pure Blood thy guilty Sword to stain:
Heaven does that Sacred Blood design
To be the Source of an Immortal Line.
Death will not dare to touch that Heart,
Which Love ha's chosen for his Dart.
Chorus.
(Love's Messengers can do no less.)
His Sword shall with one Blow
Cut off your Fetters, and the Tyrant too.
All Resistance vain will prove
When Ualour is inspir'd by Love.
Chorus.
Charlot.
I.
Tyrant thou seek'st in vainWith her pure Blood thy guilty Sword to stain:
Heaven does that Sacred Blood design
To be the Source of an Immortal Line.
Death will not dare to touch that Heart,
Which Love ha's chosen for his Dart.
Chorus.
Fair Innocence, and Beauty are
Of watchful Heaven the chiefest care:
But the devouring Monster shall
A Sacrifice to Justice fall.
Of watchful Heaven the chiefest care:
But the devouring Monster shall
A Sacrifice to Justice fall.
II.
Richmond does flye to your Redress;(Love's Messengers can do no less.)
His Sword shall with one Blow
Cut off your Fetters, and the Tyrant too.
All Resistance vain will prove
When Ualour is inspir'd by Love.
Chorus.
Tyrants by Heaven and Earth are curst;
They swell with Blood, until they burst:
But Lovers are wise Nature's care;
What Tyrants ruine, they repair.
They swell with Blood, until they burst:
But Lovers are wise Nature's care;
What Tyrants ruine, they repair.
This will the trouble of her thoughts allay:
'Tis time to give attendance; let's away.
Exeunt.
| The English Princess, or, the death of Richard the III | |