 | Rosamond |  |
SCENE changes to the Pavilion as before.
Rosamond
sola.
I hear the Steps of him I Love;
Prepare, my Soul, to meet thy Bliss!
—Death to my Eyes! what Sight is this!
The Queen, th'offended Queen I see!
—Open, O Earth! and swallow me!
Enter the Queen with a Bowl in one Hand, and a Dagger in the other.
Queen.
Thus arm'd with double Death I come:
Behold, vain Wretch, behold thy Doom!
Thy Crimes to their full Period tend,
And soon by This or This shall end.
Ros.
What shall I say, or how reply
To Threats of injur'd Majesty?
Queen.
'Tis Guilt that does thy Tongue controul.
Or quickly drain the fatal Bowl,
Or this right Hand performs its part,
And plants a Dagger in thy Heart.
Ros.
Can Britain's Queen give such Commands,
Or dip in Blood those sacred Hands?
In Her shall such Revenge be seen?
Far be that from Britain's Queen!
Queen.
How black does my Design appear?
Was ever Mercy so severe!
[Aside.
Ros.
When Tides of youthful Blood run high,
And Scenes of promis'd Joys are nigh,
Health presuming,
Beauty blooming,
Oh how dreadful 'tis to die!
Queen.
To those whom foul Dishonours stain,
Life it self should be a Pain.
Ros.
Queen.
And dost thou thus thy Guilt deplore!
[Offering the Dagger to her Breast.
Presumptuous Woman! plead no more!
Ros.
O Queen your lifted Arm restrain!
Behold these Tears!—
Queen.
—They flow in vain.
Ros.
Look with Compassion on my Fate!
O hear my Sighs!—
Queen.
—They rise too late:
Hope not a Day's, an Hour's Repreive.
Ros.
Tho' I live wretched, let me live.
In some deep Dungeon let me lye,
Cover'd from ev'ry human Eye,
Banish'd the Day, debarr'd the Light;
Where Shades of everlasting Night
May this unhappy Face disarm,
And cast a Veil o'er ev'ry Charm:
Offended Heav'n I'll there adore,
Nor see the Sun, nor Henry more.
Queen.
Moving Language, shining Tears,
Glowing Guilt, and graceful Fears,
Kindling Pity, kindling Rage,
At once provoke me, and asswage.
[Aside
Ros.
What shall I do to pacifie
Your kindled Vengeance?
Queen.
—Thou shalt die.
[Offering the Dagger.
Ros.
Give me but one short Moment's stay.
—O Henry why so far away?
[Aside.
Queen.
Prepare to welter in a Flood
Of streaming Gore.
[Offering the Dagger.
Ros.
—O spare my Blood,
And let me grasp the deadly Bowl.
[Takes the Bowl in her Hand.
Queen.
Ye Pow'rs how Pity rends my Soul!
[Aside.
Ros.
Thus prostrate at your Feet I fall.
O let me still for Mercy call.
[Falling on her Knees.
Queen.
Mercy to lighter Crimes is due,
Horrors and Death shall thine pursue.
[Offering the Dagger.
Ros.
Thus I prevent the fatal Blow.
[Drinks.
—Whither, ah! whither shall I go!
Queen.
Where thy past Life thou shalt lament,
And wish thou had'st been Innocent.
Ros.
Tyrant! to aggravate the Stroke,
And wound a Heart already broke.
My dying Soul with Fury burns,
And slighted Grief to Madness turns,
Forgive my Rage, your Wrongs forgive.
My Veins are froze, my Blood grows chill,
The weary Springs of Life stand still,
The Sleep of Death benums all o'er
My fainting Limbs, and I'm no more.
[Falls on the Couch.
Queen.
Enter Sir Trusty in a Fright.
[Staggers and falls.
Re-enter Queen, sola.
Rosamond
sola.
Transporting Pleasure! who can tell it!
When our longing Eyes discover
The kind, the dear approaching Lover,
Who can hide, or who reveal it!
A sudden Motion shakes the Grove:
When our longing Eyes discover
The kind, the dear approaching Lover,
Who can hide, or who reveal it!
I hear the Steps of him I Love;
Prepare, my Soul, to meet thy Bliss!
—Death to my Eyes! what Sight is this!
The Queen, th'offended Queen I see!
—Open, O Earth! and swallow me!
Enter the Queen with a Bowl in one Hand, and a Dagger in the other.
Queen.
Thus arm'd with double Death I come:
Behold, vain Wretch, behold thy Doom!
Thy Crimes to their full Period tend,
And soon by This or This shall end.
22
What shall I say, or how reply
To Threats of injur'd Majesty?
Queen.
'Tis Guilt that does thy Tongue controul.
Or quickly drain the fatal Bowl,
Or this right Hand performs its part,
And plants a Dagger in thy Heart.
Ros.
Can Britain's Queen give such Commands,
Or dip in Blood those sacred Hands?
In Her shall such Revenge be seen?
Far be that from Britain's Queen!
Queen.
How black does my Design appear?
Was ever Mercy so severe!
[Aside.
Ros.
When Tides of youthful Blood run high,
And Scenes of promis'd Joys are nigh,
Health presuming,
Beauty blooming,
Oh how dreadful 'tis to die!
Queen.
To those whom foul Dishonours stain,
Life it self should be a Pain.
Ros.
Who could resist great Henry's Charms,
And drive the Heroe from her Arms?
And drive the Heroe from her Arms?
Think on the soft, the tender Fires,
Melting Thoughts and gay Desires,
That in your own warm Bosom rise,
When languishing with Love-sick Eyes
That great, that charming Man you see:
Think on your self, and pity me!
Melting Thoughts and gay Desires,
That in your own warm Bosom rise,
When languishing with Love-sick Eyes
That great, that charming Man you see:
Think on your self, and pity me!
23
And dost thou thus thy Guilt deplore!
[Offering the Dagger to her Breast.
Presumptuous Woman! plead no more!
Ros.
O Queen your lifted Arm restrain!
Behold these Tears!—
Queen.
—They flow in vain.
Ros.
Look with Compassion on my Fate!
O hear my Sighs!—
Queen.
—They rise too late:
Hope not a Day's, an Hour's Repreive.
Ros.
Tho' I live wretched, let me live.
In some deep Dungeon let me lye,
Cover'd from ev'ry human Eye,
Banish'd the Day, debarr'd the Light;
Where Shades of everlasting Night
May this unhappy Face disarm,
And cast a Veil o'er ev'ry Charm:
Offended Heav'n I'll there adore,
Nor see the Sun, nor Henry more.
Queen.
Moving Language, shining Tears,
Glowing Guilt, and graceful Fears,
Kindling Pity, kindling Rage,
At once provoke me, and asswage.
[Aside
Ros.
What shall I do to pacifie
Your kindled Vengeance?
Queen.
—Thou shalt die.
[Offering the Dagger.
Ros.
Give me but one short Moment's stay.
—O Henry why so far away?
[Aside.
24
Prepare to welter in a Flood
Of streaming Gore.
[Offering the Dagger.
Ros.
—O spare my Blood,
And let me grasp the deadly Bowl.
[Takes the Bowl in her Hand.
Queen.
Ye Pow'rs how Pity rends my Soul!
[Aside.
Ros.
Thus prostrate at your Feet I fall.
O let me still for Mercy call.
[Falling on her Knees.
Accept, Great Queen, like injur'd Heav'n,
The Soul that Begs to be Forgiv'n:
If in the latest Gasp of Breath,
If in the dreadful Pains of Death,
When the cold Damp bedews your Brow,
You hope for Mercy, show it now.
The Soul that Begs to be Forgiv'n:
If in the latest Gasp of Breath,
If in the dreadful Pains of Death,
When the cold Damp bedews your Brow,
You hope for Mercy, show it now.
Queen.
Mercy to lighter Crimes is due,
Horrors and Death shall thine pursue.
[Offering the Dagger.
Ros.
Thus I prevent the fatal Blow.
[Drinks.
—Whither, ah! whither shall I go!
Queen.
Where thy past Life thou shalt lament,
And wish thou had'st been Innocent.
Ros.
Tyrant! to aggravate the Stroke,
And wound a Heart already broke.
My dying Soul with Fury burns,
And slighted Grief to Madness turns,
Think not, thou Author of my Woe,
That Rosamond will leave thee so:
At dead of Night
A glaring Spright
With hideous Screams
I'll haunt thy Dreams,
And when the painful Night withdraws,
My Henry shall Revenge my Cause.
O whither does my Frenzy drive!
That Rosamond will leave thee so:
At dead of Night
A glaring Spright
25
I'll haunt thy Dreams,
And when the painful Night withdraws,
My Henry shall Revenge my Cause.
Forgive my Rage, your Wrongs forgive.
My Veins are froze, my Blood grows chill,
The weary Springs of Life stand still,
The Sleep of Death benums all o'er
My fainting Limbs, and I'm no more.
[Falls on the Couch.
Queen.
Hear, you who wait on my Commands!
[To her Attendants.
Beneath those Hills a Convent stands,
Where the fam'd Streams of Isis stray;
Thither the breathless Coarse convey,
And bid the Cloister'd Maids with care
The due Solemnities prepare.
[Exeunt with the Body.
Where the fam'd Streams of Isis stray;
Thither the breathless Coarse convey,
And bid the Cloister'd Maids with care
The due Solemnities prepare.
When vanquish'd Foes beneath us lye
How great it is to bid them die!
But how much greater to forgive,
And bid a vanquish'd Foe to live!
How great it is to bid them die!
But how much greater to forgive,
And bid a vanquish'd Foe to live!
Enter Sir Trusty in a Fright.
A breathless Corps! what have I seen!
And follow'd by the Jealous Queen!
It must be she! my Fears are true:
The Bowl of pois'nous Juice I view.
How can the fam'd Sir Trusty live
To hear his Master chide and grieve?
No! tho' I hate such bitter Beer,
Fair Rosamond I'll pledge thee here.
[Drinks.
And follow'd by the Jealous Queen!
It must be she! my Fears are true:
The Bowl of pois'nous Juice I view.
How can the fam'd Sir Trusty live
To hear his Master chide and grieve?
26
Fair Rosamond I'll pledge thee here.
The King this doleful News shall read
In Lines of my Inditing:
Great Sir,
[Writes.
In Lines of my Inditing:
Great Sir,
Your Rosamond is dead
As I am at this present writing.
As I am at this present writing.
The Bow'r turns round, my Brain's abus'd,
The Labyrinth grows more confus'd,
The Thickets Dance—I stretch, I yawn,
Death has tripp'd up my Heels—I'm gone.
The Labyrinth grows more confus'd,
The Thickets Dance—I stretch, I yawn,
Death has tripp'd up my Heels—I'm gone.
[Staggers and falls.
Re-enter Queen, sola.
The Conflict of my Mind is o'er,
And Rosamond shall Charm no more.
Hence ye secret Damps of Care,
Fierce Disdain, and cold Despair,
Hence ye Fears and Doubts remove;
Hence Grief and Hate!
Ye Pains that wait
On Jealousie, the Rage of Love.
And Rosamond shall Charm no more.
Hence ye secret Damps of Care,
Fierce Disdain, and cold Despair,
Hence ye Fears and Doubts remove;
Hence Grief and Hate!
Ye Pains that wait
On Jealousie, the Rage of Love.
My Henry shall be mine Alone,
The Heroe shall be All my own;
Nobler Joys possess my Heart
Than Crowns and Scepters can impart.
The Heroe shall be All my own;
Nobler Joys possess my Heart
Than Crowns and Scepters can impart.
| Rosamond | |