Where my dear Lord and I must rest together:
Then let the Mirtle and the Rose be strow'd,
For 'tis my fecond better Bridal Day.
cold Bofom let his Head be laid,
And look that none disturb us;
'Till the last Trumpet's Sound break our long sleep, And call us up to everlasting Bliss.
Rodo. Hence with 'em, take 'em, drive 'em from my Sight,
The fatal Pair.- [Exeunt Aribert and Ethelinda guarded.
That Look fhall be my last.
I feel my Soul impatient of its Bondage,
Difdaining this unworthy idle Paffion,
And struggling to be free. Now, now it shoots,
It tow'rs upon the Wing to Crowns and Empire;
While Love and Aribert, those meaner Names,
Are left far, far behind, and loft for ever.
So if by chance the Eagle's noble Off-fpring,
Ta'en in the Neft, becomes fome Peasant's Prize,
Compell❜d a while he bears his Cage and Chains,
And like a Pris'ner with the Clown remains;
But when his Plumes fhoot forth, and Pinions swell,
He quits the Ruftick, and his homely Cell,
Breaks from his Bonds, and in the face of Day,
Full in the Sun's bright Beams he soars away;
Delights thro' Heav'n's wide pathlefs Ways to go,
Plays with Jove's Shafts, and grafps his dreadful Bow,
Dwells with immortal Gods, and scorns the World be-
[Exeunt Rodogune and Attendants.
The End of the Fourth A&t.
Enter the King and Seofrid.
King. NO! I will follow the fond Chace no more;
No inore pursue the flying Fantom, Glory;
But lay me down, and rest in fullen Peace;
Secure of all Events to come, and careless
If the Gods guide the World by Fate, or Fortune.
Let 'em take back the worthless Crown they gave,
Since they refuse their better Bleffings to me.
Seof. If not to Glory, yet awake to Love:
And tho' regardless of your Royal State,
Yet live for Ethelinda, live to fave her,
Doom'd by the cruel Rodogune to die.
Helpless and defolate methinks she stands,
And calls you to her Aid.
King. What! doom'd to die.
Shall thofe dear glowing Beauties then grow cold,
Pale, stiff, and cold? nor fhall I fold her once?
Shall fle not pant beneath my strong Embrace,
Swell to Defire, and meet my furious Joy?
Shall the not breathe, and look, and figh, and murmur,
Till I am loft for ever, funk in Foftafies,
And bury'd in ten thousand thousand Sweets?
What! fhall fhe die? No, by the God of Arms,
No I will once more rouse me to the War,
And fnatch her from her Fate.
Seof. Then hear the Means,
By which the Gods preferve your Crown and Love.
Ofwald, of all our Saxon Chiefs the first,
And nearest to your Brother's Heart, had drawn
The chofen Strength of all the British Youth,
Under the leading of the gallant Lucius,
To fave the Prince from your impending Wrath.
By fecret Marches they are near advanc'd,
And meant this Night to make their bold Attempt.
King. How favours this my Purpofe?
I have prevail'd their Force fhall join with all
Thofe faithful Saxons who are still
your Subjects.
Your Foes, fierce Offa and his haughty Sifter,
Secure and infolent with new Succefs,
Despise your Numbers, and inferior Strength,
And may this Night with ease become your Prey.
Ofwald attends without to learn your Pleasure,
And bear it to the valiant British Chiefs.
King. The Britons! Gods!.
-The Traytor ftill has been
Avow'd the Slave of Aribert, his Creature,
His Bofom, fawning Parafite-No matter;
They serve the present Purpose of my Heart.
And I will ufe 'em now. Taught by thy Arts,
I will look kindly on the Wretch I loath,
And fmile on him I deftine to Destruction.
Bid him approach.
[Exit Seofrid, and Re-enter with Ofwald.
Seof. The Valiant Ofwald, Sir.
King. Your Friend has fpoke at large your bold Defign,
Worthy your Courage, and your Princely Friend.
And how foe'er the medling Hand of Chance
Has fown th' unlucky Seeds of Strife between us,
Yet I have ftill a Brother's Part in Aribert.
Nor fhall my Hand be flow to lead you on,
'Till we have driven these haughty Inmates forth,
And independent fix'd that Sov'reign Right,
Which our brave Fathers fought to gain in Britain.
Of. With honourable Purpose are we come,
With friendly Greeting from the Britons King,
And the fair Offer of an equal Peace.
This only he demands; send back the Troops
Which late arriv'd with Of, now your Foe
As well as his; and fet your Princely Brother,
With the fair Ethelinda, safe and free.
Thefe juft Conditions once confirm'd to Lucius,
Ambrofius is the Friend of Royal Hengist.
The Britons then shall join their Arms with yours,
To drive out these unhofpitable Guests,
And leave you peaceful Lord of fruitful Kent,
The firft Poffeffion of your warlike Father.
King In friendly Part, take we his proffer'd Love.
Bear this our Signet to the gallant Lucius,
[Giving his Ring to Ofwald. Our Bond and Pledge of Peace, which in full Form We will confirm, foon as the present Danger
Is well remov'd, and better time allows.
Haste thou to join our valiant Friends, the Britons;
My faithful Seofrid fhall foon attend you,
With full Inftructions for your private March,
And means of Entrance here; with the whole Order
In which we mean t'attack the common Foe.
Ofw. I go, my Lord, and may the Gods befriend us. [Ex [The King looks after Oswald, then turns and walks two oy three times haftily cross the Stage.
Seof. Ha! whence this fudden Start! [Afide.] That wrathful Frown,
Your Eyes fierce glancing, and your changing Visage,
Now pale as Death, now purpled o'er with Flame,
Give me to know your Paffions are at odds,
And your whole Soul is up in Arms within.
King. Oh thou haft read aright, haft feen me well;
To thee I have thrown off the Mask I wore;
And now the fecret workings of my Brain,
Stand all reveal'd to thee. I tell thee, Seofrid,
There never was a Medley of such thinking.
Ambition, Hatred, Mischief and Revenge,
Gather like Clouds on Clouds; and then anon,
Love, like a golden Beam of Light fhoots thro',
Smiles on the Gloom, and my Heart bounds with pleasure
But 'tis no time for Talk. To Siwald fly,
My Soldier and my Servant, often try'd;
Bid him draw out a hundred chofen Horse,
And hold 'em ready by the Night's first Fall.
Let 'em be all of Courage, well approv'd;
Such as dare follow wherefoe'er I lead,
Where-e'er this Night, or Fate, or Love fhall bear me.
Seef. I haften to obey you. But alas!
Might your old Man have leave to speak his Fears
King. I read thy Care for me in all thofe Fears;
But be not wife too much. Oft thou haft told me
Love is a base, unmanly, whining Paffion.
This Night I mean to prove it, and forfake it.
I was, 'tis true, the Slave of this foft Folly,
And waited at an awful, abject Distance,
Restrain'd by idle Rules, which scornful Beauty
And fullen Honour dictate; but no more,
No! by our Gods, I'll fuffer it no more.
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