From glorious and immortal toils, SIR TRUSTY. The bower and lady both are drest, MESSENGER. Hither the victor flies, (his queen Soon as the British shores he reached, SIR TRUSTY. Here I will stand With hat in hand, Obsequiously to meet him, And must endeavour At behaviour, That's suitable to greet him. SCENE VI. Enter King Henry after a flourish of trumpets. KING. Where is my love! my Rosamond! SIR TRUSTY. First, as in strictest duty bound, KING. Where is my life! my Rosamond? SIR TRUSTY. Next with submission most profound, KING. Where is the tender, charming fair? SIR TRUSTY. Let me, appear, great Sir, I pray, KING. Where is my love, O tell me where? SIR TRUSTY. For when we have a prince's ear, To know what's fit For us to speak, and him to hear. KING. These dull delays I cannot bear. SIR TRUSTY. I speak, great Sir, with weeping eyes, KING. What dost thou say? I shake with fear. SIR TRUSTY. Nay, good my liege, with patience hear. KING. "Was ever nymph like Rosamond, My heart's on fire, And leaps and springs to her embrace." Full in the centre of the grove, VOL. VI. With intermingling sweets have wove SIR TRUSTY. Your highness, Sir, as I presume, KING. Mean while with due attention wait Nor senseless pomp, nor noise intrude But pleasure reign through all the grove, "O the pleasing, pleasing anguish, Thoughts surprising! Charms transporting! Fancy viewing, Joys ensuing! O the pleasing, pleasing anguish!" Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. A Pavilion in the middle of the Bower. KING AND ROSAMOND. KING. THUS let my weary soul forget ROSAMOND. Thus let me lose, in rising joys, Fierce impatience, fond desires, Absence that flatt'ring hope destroys, And life-consuming fires. KING. Not the loud British shout that warms The warrior's heart, nor clashing arms, Nor fields with hostile banners strewd, Nor life on prostrate Gauls bestow'd, Give half the joys that fill my breast, While with my Rosamond I'm blest. ROSAMOND. My Henry is my soul's delight, KING. 0 may the present bliss endure, From fortune, time, and death secure! may the present bliss endure !" KING. My eye could ever gaze, my ear From whence this sad presaging fear, With such a look I've seen him fly, And lost in endless tracts of light; "They're phantoms all; I'll think no more: My life has endlss joys in store. Farewell sorrow, farewell fear, They're phantoms all! my Henry's here," SCENE II. A Postern Gate of the Bower. GRIDELINE AND PAGE. GRIDELINE. My stomach swells with secret spite, |