Of a poor wretch, that hurries to her grave.
Look, look upon me; I behold thee not
With unforgiving and resentful eyes;
I deem thee but the destin'd instrument
Of righteous Heaven, to punish my misdeeds.
Queen. A flood of agony o'erwhelms my soul,
And all my pride and rage is wash'd away.

[Aside.

Rosa. Now cast an eye of pity on my tears, Now, in these awful, these tremendous moments, Thou canst not doubt my truth. By my warm hopes Of mercy at that throne where all must bow, My only crime was love. No pow'r on earth Could have impell'd me to a further wrong Against thy state or peace.

Queen. I must believe thee

What then remains for me; O, rise, and wreak
Thy vengeance on my now-relenting rage.
Behold these tears-My wrongs are all forgot.-
Excess of passion, love, that knew no bounds,
Drove me, with execrable haste, to act-
What now I would resign all earthly bliss
To have undone again.

King. [Within.] Seize all that haunt
These winding avenues-let none escape.
Rosa. Ah me! that voice!

Queen. 'Tis Henry's; let him come

And take his share of mis'ry.

Enter the King, ETHELINDA, and Attendants,
with Torches.

King. Where, where is she?

O, fell, vindictive fiend! what horrid act

Hath thy dark rage been dealing?

Queen. Mad revenge!

Ethel. Lo the dread means! all this my mind foretold,

When the queen's train first met my startled eye.

Rosa. Ev'n now my flitting spirit is on the wing; The deadly draught runs thro' my scorching blood, I feel it at my heart-O, Henry! Henry!

King. Malicious rage, thou rid'st the lightning's flash

To execute thy vengeance! Ethelinda,
Thy zeal was cool, thy expedition slow,
Compar'd to that fell tyrant's rapid heat.
Lift up thine eyes-O! do not leave me yet-
Why melts compassion in thy languid looks?
The flames of fury should be kindled there,
'Gainst him, who left thee to invading fate,
Who saw not thy distress, heard not thy cries,
When black revenge was pouring torments on thee !---
O, cruel woman, unrelenting fiend!

Rosa. Calm, calm thy mind; vent not thy fury there, Her wrongs cried loud, and her great heart is wrapt In sorrow for the deed.

King. What now avails it?

Compunction should have sprang when she beheld
The streaming tears course one another down
Thy beauteous cheek, and read the speechless grief
Of thy imploring eyes.-O! was it thus

I thought to see my Rosamond again!

G

Hath fury, like an Eastern-blast, destroy'd

The sweetest, loveliest flow'r that ever bloom'd?

But I will die beside thee, never more

Revisit cheerful day, nor dream of comfort,
When thou art parted from me.

Rosa. Cease, O! cease

These useless plainings; consecrate to peace
The few remaining moments-nor let rage
Impel thy soul to meditate revenge

For a poor wretch, who justly thus atones
Her num'rous crimes. O, royal Eleanor !
Hear these last accents-Howsoe'er I lov'd,
However guilty I have seem'd to you,
This very night I had resolv'd to leave
These fatal walls, and, by my father's guidance,
Devote my future days to penitence.

King. Doth not thy blood, like mine, halt in thy veins,

And chill the seat of life?

Rosa. Extend thy pity,

(I cannot wrong thee further) grant me now
One moment to indulge the tender feelings
Of hapless love, and breathe a fond adieu,
Ere this poor harrass'd spirit quit my breast.

King. Why this compassion to the wretched cause Of all thy mis'ries! I am the source

Of every pang, that feeds on thy lov'd heart-
Of this thy fatal end.-Reproach, revile me—
Do any thing but look thus kindly on me,
And I will struggle with my mighty woes,
Taught by the great example.

Rosa. O, my Henry!

Let not the sad remembrance of my fate

Sit on thy heart, nor call my present state

A misery; I wish'd some sure retreat.

From grief and shame, and Heaven hath heard my prayer.

Queen. Unhappy victim of my blinded fury,

I almost envy thee thy present state;

Thou soon wilt be at ease; while I must live
To all the torments which a guilty mind
Inflicts upon myself.

King. Canst thou feel thus,

Yet couldst remain obdurate to her tears,
And deaf to her entreaties ?

Queen. A deed like this

Was foreign to my heart, had not the fraud
Been pour'd into my ears, that I was nant
To be divorc'd for ever from thine arms,
Be made an outcast from thy bed and throne,
That she might rise my substitute in all.

King. What black-foul'd dæmon could possess thy mind

With such a hellish falsehood?

Queen. He-that fiend!

Why start'st thou back? I shrink not from the blow;

New woes assail me at that sinking object,

And all thy sword can do is mercy now.

King. Thou, Night, in tenfold darkness close me round,

From that much injur'd form!

Cliff. My child, my child,

Oh! wake, and let me once more hear thy voice.

Speak, speak, my Rosamond;

tell my

sad heart

What further woe awaits it. Hath affliction

Robb'd me of sense, or do I see the pangs
Of ruthless death within thy struggling eye.

Rosa. Thou dost, my father; let me bless thy goodness,

Ere speech forsake me; thou art come to execute
Thy pious promise-Fate prevents thy care,
And I submit. My penitential tears,

My hopes of heavenly mercy, and thy pardon,
Alleviate death's sharp terrors.

Cliff. O! what hand

Hath robb'd me of the latest ray of hope,
That trembling glitter'd on my eve of life?

Queen. In me behold the murderer of thy peace!
Vent thy reproaches, load me with thy curses,
I'll bear them ail; high as I am in rank,
And proud in heart, I bend to make atonement.
My rage unsex'd me; and the dire remembrance
Will ever haunt my mind.

King. It will have vent.

Lo, injur'd Clifford, Henry kneels before thee!
Henry, who spurn'd the holy ties of friendship,