University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A Prospect of Woodstock-Park, terminating in the Bower.
Enter Queen and Page.
Queen.
What Place is here!
What Scenes appear!
Where-e'er I turn my Eyes,
All around
Enchanted Ground
And soft Elysiums rise:
Flow'ry Mountains,
Mossie Fountains,
Shady Woods,
Chrystal Floods
With wild Variety surprize.
Alluding to the famous Eccho.

Page.
There gentle Rosamond immur'd
Lives from the World and you secur'd.

Queen.
Curse on the Name! I faint, I die,
With secret Pangs of Jealousie.—

[Aside.
Page.
There does the pensive Beauty mourn,
And languish for her Lord's Return.

Queen.
Death and Confusion! I'm too slow—
[Aside.
Show me the happy Mansion, show.—

Page.
Great Henry there—

Queen.
Trifler, no more!—

Page.
—Great Henry there
Will soon forget the Toils of War.

Queen.
No more! the happy Mansion show
That holds this lovely, guilty Foe.
My Wrath, like that of Heav'n, shall rise,
And blast her in her Paradise.

Page.
Behold on yonder rising Ground
The Bow'r that wanders
In Meanders,
Ever bending,
Never ending,
Glades on Glades,
Shades in Shades,
Running an Eternal Round.

Queen.
In such an endless Maze I rove,
Lost in Labyrinths of Love,
My Breast with hoarded Vengeance burns,
While Fear and Rage
With Hope engage,
And rule my wav'ring Soul by turns.

Page.
The Path yon verdant Field divides
Which to the soft Confinement guides.

Queen.
Eleonora, think betimes,
What are thy hated Rival's Crimes!
Whither, ah whither dost thou go!
What has she done to move thee so!
—Does she not warm with guilty Fires
The faithless Lord of my Desires?
Have not her fatal Arts remov'd
My Henry from my Arms?
'Tis her Crime to be lov'd,
'Tis her Crime to have Charms.
Let us fly, let us fly,
She shall die, she shall die.

Page.
Hark, hark! what Sound invades my Ear?
The Conqueror's Approach I hear.

Queen.
Henry returns, from Danger free,
Henry returns!—But not to me.
He comes his Rosamond to greet,
And lay his Laurels at her Feet,
His Vows impatient to renew;
His Vows to Eleonora due.
Here shall the happy Nymph detain,
(While of his Absence I complain)
Hid in her mazy wanton Bow'r,
My Lord, my Life, my Conqueror.

SCENE II.

The Entry of the Bower.
Sir Trusty,
Knight of the Bower, solus.
But hah! my Limbs begin to quiver,
I glow, I burn, I freeze, I shiver;
Whence rises this convulsive Strife?
I smell a Shrew!
My Fears are true,
I see my Wife.

Enter Grideline, Wife to Sir Trusty.
Grid.
Faithless Varlet, art thou there?

Sir Tr.
My Love, my Dove, my Charming Fair!

Grid.
Monster, thy wheedling Tricks I know.

Sir Tr.
Why wilt thou call thy Turtle so?

Grid.
Cheat not me with false Caresses.

Sir Tr.
Let me stop thy Mouth with Kisses.

Grid.
Those to Fair Rosamond are due.

Sir Tr.
She is not half so Fair as you.

Grid.
She views thee with a Lover's Eye.

Sir Tr.
I'll still be thine, and let her die.

Grid.
No, no, 'tis plain. Thy Frauds I see,
Traitor to thy King and me!

Sir Tr.
O Grideline! consult thy Glass,
Behold that sweet bewitching Face,
Those blooming Cheeks, that lovely Hue!
Ev'ry Feature
(Charming Creature)
Will convince you I am true.

Grid.
O how blest were Grideline,
Could I call Sir Trusty mine!
Did he not cover amorous Wiles
With soft, but ah! deceiving Smiles:
How should I Revel in Delight,
The Spouse of such a Peerless Knight!

Sir Tr.
At length the Storm begins to cease,
I've sooth'd and flatter'd her to Peace.
'Tis now my Turn to Tyranize,
[Aside.
I feel, I feel my Fury rise!
Tigress, be gone.

Grid.
—I love thee so
I cannot go.

Sir Tr.
Fly from my Passion, Beldame, fly!

Grid.
Why so unkind, Sir Trusty, why?

Sir Tr.
Thou'rt the Plague of my Life.

Grid.
I'm a foolish, fond Wife.

Sir Tr.
Let us part,
Let us part.

Grid.
Will you break my poor Heart?
Will you break my poor Heart?

Sir Tr.
I will if I can.

Grid.
O barbarous Man!
From whence doth all this Passion flow?

Sir Tr.
Thou art ugly and old,
And a villainous Scold.

Grid.
Thou art a Rustick to call me so.
I'm not ugly nor old,
Nor a villainous Scold,
But thou art a Rustick to call me so.
Thou, Traitor, adieu!

Sir Tr.
Farewel, thou Shrew!

Grid.
Thou Traitor,

Sir Tr.
Thou Shrew,

Both.
Adieu! adieu!

[Exit Grid.
Sir Trusty
solus.

Enter Rosamond.
From Walk to Walk, from Shade to Shade,
From Stream to purling Stream convey'd,
Through all the Mazes of the Grove,
Through all the mingling Tracks I rove,
Turning,
Burning,
Changing,
Ranging,
Full of Grief and full of Love.
Impatient for my Lord's Return
I sigh, I pine, I rave, I mourn.

Sir Tr.
What Heart of Stone
Can hear her moan,
And not in Dumps so doleful join!

[Apart.
Ros.
How does my constant Grief deface
The Pleasures of this happy Place!
In vain the Spring my Senses greets
In all her Colours, all her Sweets;
To me the Rose
No longer glows,
Every Plant
Has lost its Scent:
The vernal Blooms of various Hue,
The Blossoms fresh with Morning Dew,
The Breeze, that sweeps these fragrant Bow'rs,
Fill'd with the Breath of Op'ning Flow'rs,
Purple Scenes,
Winding Greens,
Glooms inviting,
Birds delighting,
(Nature's softest, sweetest Store)
Charm my tortur'd Soul no more.

Sir Tr.
How much more bless'd wou'd Lovers be,
Did all the whining Fools agree
To live like Grideline and me!

Ros.
O Rosamond, behold too late
And tremble at thy future Fate!
Curse this unhappy, guilty Face,
Every Charm, and every Grace,
That to thy Ruin made their way,
And led thine Innocence astray:
At home thou seest thy Queen enrag'd,
Abroad thy absent Lord engag'd
In Wars, that may our Loves disjoin,
And end at once his Life and mine.

Sir Tr.
Such cold Complaints befit a Nun:
If she turns honest I'm undone!

Ros.
Beneath some hoary Mountain
I'll lay me down and weep,
Or near some warbling Fountain
Bewail my self asleep,
Where feather'd Quires combining
With gentle murm'ring Streams,
And Winds in Consort joining,
Raise sadly-pleasing Dreams.
[Exit Ros.

Sir Trusty
solus.
What savage Tiger would not pity
A Damsel so distress'd and pretty!
But hah! a Sound my Bow'r invades,
[Trumpets flourish.
And eccho's through the winding Shades;
'Tis Henry's March! the Tune I know:
A Messenger! It must be so.

Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
Great Henry comes! with Love opprest;
Prepare to lodge the Royal Guest.
From purple Fields with Slaughter spread,
From Rivers choak'd with Heaps of Dead,
From glorious and immortal Toils,
Loaden with Honour, rich with Spoils,
Great Henry comes! Prepare thy Bow'r
To lodge the mighty Conquerour.

Sir Tr.
The Bow'r and Lady both are drest,
And ready to receive their Guest.

Mess.
Hither the Victor flies (his Queen
And Royal Progeny unseen)
Soon as the British Shores he reach'd,
Hither his foaming Courser strech'd:
And see! his eager Steps prevent
The Message that himself hath sent!

Sir Tr.
Here will I stand
With Hat in Hand
Obsequiously to meet him,
And must endeavour
At Behaviour
That's suitable to greet him.

Enter King Henry after a Flourish of Trumpets.
King.
Where is my Love! my Rosamond!

Sir Tr.
First, as in strictest Duty bound,
I kiss your Royal Hand,

King.
Where is my Life! my Rosamond!

Sir Tr.
Next with Submission most profound,
I welcome you to Land.

King.
Where is the Tender, Charming Fair!

Sir Tr.
Let me appear, Great Sir, I pray
Methodical in what I say.

King.
Where is my Love! O tell me where!

Sir Tr.
For when we have a Prince's Ear,
We should have Wit
To know what's fit
For us to speak, and him to hear.

King.
These dull Delays I cannot bear,
Where is my Love, O tell me where!

Sir Tr.
I speak, Great Sir, with weeping Eyes,
She raves, alas! she faints, she dies.

King.
What dost thou say? my Heart's alarm'd!

Sir Tr.
Be not, my Liege, too quickly warm'd:
She raves, and faints, and dies, 'tis true;
But raves, and faints, and dies for you.

King.
Was ever Nymph like Rosamond,
So fair, so faithful, and so fond,
Adorn'd with ev'ry Charm and Grace!
My Heart's on Fire
With strong Desire,
And leaps and springs to her Embrace.

Sir Tr.
At the Sight of her Lover
She'll quickly recover.
What Place will you chuse
For first Interviews?

King.
Full in the Center of the Grove
In yon Pavilion made for Love,
Where Woodbines, Roses, Jessamines,
Amaranths, and Eglantines,
With intermingling Sweets have wove
The particolour'd gay Alcove.

Sir Tr.
Your Highness, Sir, as I presume,
Has chose the most convenient Gloom;
There's not a Place in all the Park
Has Trees so thick, and Shades so dark.

King.
Mean while with due Attention wait
To guard the Bow'r, and watch the Gate;
Let neither Envy, Grief, nor Fear,
Nor Love-sick Jealousie appear,
Nor senseless Pomp nor Noise intrude
On this Delicious Solitude,
But Pleasure reign through all the Grove,
And all be Peace, and all be Love.

[Exeunt.