The path yon verdant field divides,
Which to the foft confinement guides.
Queen.
Eleonora, think betimes,
What are thy hated rival's crimes!
Whither, ah whither doft thou go!
What has she done to move thee fo!
-Does the not warm with guilty fire
The faithlefs lord of my defire?
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 fhall die, the shall die.
I feel, I feel, my heart releņt :
How could the fair be innoceut!
To a monarch like mine,
Who would not refign!
One fo great and fo brave
All hearts must enslave.
Page.
Hark! hark! what found invades my ear?
The conqueror's approach I hear.
He comes, victorious Henry comes, Hautboys, trumpets, fifes, and drums, In dreadful concert join'd,
The traitress fhall bleed;
No fear fhall alarm,
No pity difarm;
In my rage shall be seen
The revenge of a queen.
The Entry of the Bower.
Sir Trufty, Knight of the Bower, folus. How unhappy is he,
That is ty'd to a fhe,
And fam'd for his wit and his beauty! For of us pretty fellows
Our wives are so jealous,
They ne'er have enough of our duty.
But hah! my limbs begin to quiver,
Ì glow, I burn, I freeze, I shiver ;
Whence rifes this convulfive ftrife?
I smell a fhrew ;
My fears are true, I fee my wife.
From death and alarms
Fly, fly to my arms,
Fly to my arms, my monarch, fly.
How much more blets'd would lovers be,
Did all the whining fools agree
To live like Grideline and me:
Rofmond,
O Rofamond, behold too late,
And tremble at thy future fate!
Curse this u happy, guilty face,
Every charm, and every grace,
That so thy ruin made their way
And led thine innocence aftray :
At home thou feest the Queen enraged;
Abroad thy abfent Lord engaged
Inars that may our loves disjoin,
And end at once his life and mine.
Sir Tufty
Such cold complaints befit a nun:
If the turns honest, I'm undone !
Refamen'.
Beneath fome hoary mountain
I'll lay me down and weep,
Or near fome warbling fountain
Bewail mytelf afleep;
Where feather'd choirs combining
With gentle murmuring streams,
And winds in confort j ining,
Raife fadly pleafing dreams.
Sir Trufly, folus.
What favage tiger would not pity
A dan fel fo distress'd and pretty!
But hah! a found my bower invades,
And echoes through the winding shades; 'Tis Henry's march the tune i know : A meffenger! it must be so.
A Mejenger and Sir Trufy.
Me nger
Great Henry comes! with love opprest;
Prepare to lodge the royal gueft.
From purple fields with flaughter fpread,
From rivers chok'd with heaps of dead,
From glorious and immortal toils,
Loaden with honour, rich with (poils,
Great Henry comes prepare thy bower
To lodge the mighty conqueror.
Sir Truffy.
The bower and lady both are drest,
And ready to receive their guest.
Mff nger.
Hither the victor flies, (his queen
And royal progeny unfeen ;)
Soon as the Britifh fhores he reached,
Hither his foaming courfer ftretched;
And fee! his eager steps prever [
The meffage that himself hath fent!
Sir Trufty.
Here will I fand With ha in head, VJL. VII.
Your Highnefs, Sir, as I prefume,
Has chofe the moft convenient gloom;
There is not a fpot in all the park
Has trees fo thick, and fhades fo dark.
King.
Meanwhile with due attention wait
To guard the bower, and watch the gate:
Let neither envy, grief nor fear,
Nor lovefick jealoufy appear;
Nor fenfelefs pomp, nor noise intrude
On this delicious folitude;
But pleasure reign through all the grove,
And all be peace, and all be love.
Oh the pleasing pleasing anguish
When we love, and when we languifh!
Wishes rifing!
Thoughts furprising!
Pleasure courting!
Charms tranfporting!
Fancy viewing
O the pleasing, pleafing anguish!
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