King. By heaven, I never knew distress till now! Thy accents cleave my soul; thou dost not know What complicated agonies and pangs

Thy cruelty prepares for Henry's heart!

He must endure a throe, like that which rends
The seated earth, ere he can summon strength
To banish thee for ever from his arms.

Rosa. Think, conscience; honour, plead.
King. [Aside.] Down, busy fiend;

That stranger's tale, and Clifford's crying wrongs,
Distract my tortur'd mind-in pity cease- [To Rosa.
I cannot part with thee.

Rosa. A thousand motives

Urge thy compliance will not public claims

Soon call thee from thy realm? When thou art gone, Who shall protect me? Who shall then provide

A safe asylum for thy Rosamond,

To guard her weakness from assailing fears,

And threat'ning dangers?

King. What can here alarm thee?

Rosa. Perpetual apprehensions rise; perchance

The poignant sense, how much

my crimes deserve,

Adds to the phantoms; conscience-stung I dread

I know not what of ill. Remove me hence,

My dearest lord; thus on my knees I sue,

And my last breath shall bless thee. Give me misery, But rescue me from guilt.

King. What, lead thee forth

From these once happy walls: yield thee, abandon'd, To an unpitying, unprotecting world!

Then turn, and roam uncomfortably round
The chang'd abode, explore in vain the bliss
It once afforded; like a restless sprite
That hourly haunts the desolated spot
Where all his treasure lay! bid me tear out
This seated heart, and rend each vital string,
I sooner could obey thee.

Rosa. Turn, my Henry;

Leave me not thus in sorrow! Canst thou part
In anger from me?

King. Anger!-Oh! thou sweet one!—

[Going.

Witness these pangs! I cannot, will not lose theeRosa. Confirm my pardon, then; pitying, reflect, 'Tis the first hour I e'er beheld thy frown.Forgive me-oh, forgive me!

King. Spare me—spare

A moment's thought to my distracted soul,
To ease the throbs, and hush the swelling tumults,
Which my fond love would fain conceal from thee,
Thou exquisite tormentor!

[Exit. Rosa. Heav'n sooth thy suff'ring mind, restore thy

peace,

And win thy yielding spirit to my prayer!

For it must be the blow must be endur'd,
Tho' nature tremble at it-Heav'n requires it:
I hear the sacred voice that claims aloud
Atonement for its violated laws.

When I am sunder'd from him, ne'er again
To feast my eyes on his lov'd form, or share
His converse more; it will be then no sin,

Nor Heav'n nor man can be offended then,

If sometimes I devote a pensive hour

To dwell upon his virtues; or, at night,

When sleep, like a false friend, denies his comforts, I bathe my solitary couch with tears,

And weary Heav'n for blessings on his head.

Enter the Abbot.

Abbot. Health to the fair, whose radiant charms diffuse
Bright beams around, and shame meridian day
With rival lustre and superior beauty!

Rosa. Alas, good father! my dejected heart,
Ill-suited now to flattery's soothing breath,
Is wrapp'd in other thoughts.

Abbot. An old man's praise

Is of small worth; nor should'st thou term it flatt'ry, The approbation which the ready tongue

pontaneous utters at thy beauties' sight. But thy sad eyes are swoln with tears, I trust They flow from holy motives.

Rosa. Thou hast oft

Preach'd, in persuasive accents, the great duty
Of combating temptation; teaching virtue
To gain dominion o'er assailing passions,
And with her pious firmness guard the breast.
Abbot. I have, fair daughter.

Rosa. These thy holy precepts,

My melancholy heart, I hope, hath learn`d;
The self-convicted mourner hath resolv'd

To turn from guilt's delusive dang’rous way,
And seek the penitential paths of peace.

Abbot. Explain thyself, my pupil; lay thy meanings

Clear to my view.

Rosa. I have resolv'd to leave

This culprit-state of unchaste, lawless love,

And, in some solitude's protecting shade
Atone, by future purity of life,

My errors past.

Abbot. 'Tis nobly purpos'd, daughter;
Worthy the precepts I have given thy youth,
And the great efforts of exalted virtue:
But why retire to moping solitude?

The heart is weak that finds itself unable

In

any situation, to repent

Its past misdeeds; it is the principle,

And not the place, atones; we may be good,
And yet abide in active, chearful life;
There are a thousand pleasures and delights
Not inconsistent with the strictest truth

And sanctity of mind.

Rosa. It may be so,

And such may be indulg'd by those whose lives
Have ne'er been branded with a flagrant crime;
But wretches like myself, whom conscience taxes
With violated chastity and justice,

Have forfeited those rights.

Abbot. I like not this

She dares debate-she judges for herself

I must restrain this freedom-'tis presumption. [Aside,

E

Rosa. Yes, all shall be renounc'd, all that conspir'd

To make my guilty situation wear

The face of bliss; splendor and affluence,

All shall be given up, and well exchang'd,
If they obtain remission for my crimes.

Abbot. Some farther meaning lurks beneath these words,

Which my foreboding fears dislike.

Rosa. My Henry

[Aside.

I have solicited to this great purpose,

Of my new-open'd, new-enkindled mind.
Abbot. As I divin'd-Destruction to my

views!

[Aside.

Rosa. Why turn'st thou from me? Breathe thy pious

comforts

To nourish my resolves.

Abbot. Think'st thou, fond pupil,

Thy paramour will yield to thy request?

Oh, no! his passion is too much his master. Think'st thou, can he who dotes upon thy beauties,

Dotes even to folly

Rosa. Spare me, holy father in

Wound not my ear with one contemptuous word
Against his dignity: I cannot bear it.

Abbot. My recollection, zealous for thy ease,
Recalls the casual word. I grieve to see thee
Misled by phantoms: but there is a way,
A clear and certain way to happiness,
Which thou hast not descry'd.

Rosa. Inform me, father,