King ARTHUR: OR, The British Worthy.   

ADVERTISEMENT.  
FInding that several of my Friends, in Buying my Plays, etc. Bound together, have been imposed on by the Booksellers foisting in a Play which is not mine; I have here, to prevent this for the future, set down a Catalogue of my Plays and Poems in Quarto, putting the Plays in the Order I wrote them.  
John Dryden.   


ESSAY on Dramatic Poetry.  
Wild Gallant.  
Rival Ladies.  
Indian Emperor.  
Maiden Queen.  
Sir Martin Marr-all.  
Tempest.  
Evening Love.  
Royal Martyr.  
Conquest of Granada, in two Parts.  
Marriage A-la-Mode.  
Love in a Nunnery.  
Amboyna.  
State of Innocence.  
Aurenzebe.  
All for Love.  
Limberham.  
Oedipus.  
Troilus and Cressida.  
Spanish Friar.  
Duke of Guise.  
Vindication of the Duke of Guise.  
Done Sebastian.  
Amphitryon.  
King Arthur.  
Annus Mirabilis, or, The Year of Wonders.  
A Poem on the Return of King Charles II.  
A Panegyric on the Coronation of King Charles II.  
A Poem to the Lord Chancellor Hid.  
Absolom and Achitophel.  
The Medal.  
Religio Laici.  
Elegy on the Death of King Charles II.  
The Hind and Panther.  
A Poem on the Birth of the Prince.    

King ARTHUR: OR, The British Worthy. A Dramatic OPERA. Performed at the QVEENS' Theatre By Their MAJESTY'S Servants.  
Written by Mr. DRYDEN.  
— Hoc alta Theatris  
Fundamenta locant: Scenis decora alta futuris.  Virg. Aeneid. 1. Purpurea intexti toliunt aulaea Britanni. Georg. 3.10. — Tanton' placuit concurrere motu. Aeneid. 11. 
Jupiter, aeternâ Genteis in pace futuras?  
Et Celebrare Domestica facta.  Hor. 
London, Printed for Jacob Tonson, at the Judges-Head in Chancery-Lane near Fleetstreet, 1601.   

To the MARQVISS of HALLIFAX.  
My LORD,  
THIS Poem was the last Piece of Service, which I had the Honour to do, for my Gracious Master, King CHARLES the Second: And though he lived not to see the Performance of it, on the Stage; yet the PROLOGUE to it, which was the Opera of Albion and Albanius, was often practised before Him at Whitehal, and encouraged by His Royal Approbation. It was indeed a Time, which was proper for Triumph, when He had overcome all those Difficulties which for some Years had perplexed His Peaceful Reign: But when He had just restored His People to their Senses, and made the latter End of His Government, of a Piece with the Happy Beginning of it, He was on the sudden snatched away, from the Blessings and Acclamations of His Subjects, who arrived so late to the Knowledge of Him, that they had but just time enough to desire Him longer, before they were to part with Him for ever. Peace be with the Ashes of so Good a King! Let His Hlumane Frailties be forgotten; and His Clemency and Moderation (the inherent Virtues of His Family) be remembered with a Grateful Veneration by Three Kingdoms, through which He spread the Blessings of them. And, as your Lordship held a principal Place in His Esteem, and perhaps the first in His Affection, during His latter Troubles; the Success which accompanied those prudent Counsels, cannot but reflect an Honour on those few who managed them; and wrought out, by their Faithfulness and Diligence, the Public Safety. I might dilate on the Difficulties which attended that Undertaking, the Temper of the People, the Power, Arts and Interest of the contrary Party, but those are all of them Invidious Topics; they are too green in our Remembrance; and he who touches on them, Incedit per ignes, suppositos cineri doloso. But without reproaching one side to praise another, I may justly recommend to both, those wholesome Counsels, which wisely administered, and as well executed, were the Means of preventing a Civil War, and of extinguishing a growing Fire which was just ready to have broken forth among us. So many Wives, who have yet their Husbands in their Arms; so many Parents, who have not the Number of their Children lessened; so many Villages, Towns and Cities, whose Inhabitants are not decreased, their Property violated, or their Wealth diminished, are yet owing to the sober Conduct, and happy Results of your Advice. If a true Account may be expected by future Ages, from the present, your Lordship will be delivered over to Posterity, in a fairer Character than I have given: And be read, not in the Preface of a Play, (whose Author is not vain enough to promise Immortality to others, or to hope it for himself) but in many Pages of a Chronicle, filled with Praises of your Administration. For if Writers be just to the Memory of King CHARLES the Second, they cannot deny him to have been an exact Knower of Mankind, and a perfect Distinguisher of their Talents. 'Tis true, his Necessities often forced him to vary his Counsellors and Councils, and sometimes to employ such Persons in the Management of his Affairs, who were rather fit for his present purpose, than satisfactory to his Judgement: But where it was Choice in him, not Compulsion, he was Master of too much good Sense to delight in heavy Conversation; and whatever his Favourites of State might be, yet those of his Affection, were Men of Wit. He was easy with these; and complied only with the former: But in the latter part of his Life, which certainly required to be most cautiously managed, his secret Thoughts were communicated but to few; and those selected of that sort, who were Amici omnium Horarum, able to advise him in a serious Consult, where his Honour and Safety were concerned; and afterwards capable of entertaining him with pleasant Discourse, as well as profitable. In this Maturest part of his Age, when he had been long seasoned with Difficulties and Dangers, and was grown to a Niceness in his Choice, as being satisfied how few could be trusted; and, of those who could be trusted, how few could serve him, he confined himself to a small Number of Bosom Friends; amongst whom, the World is much mistaken, if your Lordship was not first.  
If the Rewards which you received for those Services, were only Honours, it rather showed the Necessities of the Times, than any want of Kindness in your Royal Master: And as the Splendour of your Fortune stood not in need of being supported by the Crown, so likewise in being satisfied without other Recompense, you showed yourself to be above a Mercenary Interest; and strengthened that Power, which bestowed those Titles on you: Which truly speaking, were Marks of Acknowledgement more than Favour.  
But, as a Skilful Pilot will not be tempted out to Sea, in suspected Wether, so have you wisely chosen to withdraw yourself from public Business, when the Face of Heaven grew troubled; and the frequent shisting of the Winds foreshowed a Storm: There are Times and Seasons when the best Patriots are willing to withdraw their Hands from the Commonwealth; as Photion in his latter Days was observed to decline the Management of Affairs: Or, as Cicero, (to draw the Similitude more home) left the Pulpit, for Tusculum; and the praise of Oratory, for the sweet Enjoyments of a private Life. And, in the Happiness of those Retirements, has more obliged Posterity by his Moral Precepts, than he did the Republic, in quelling the Couspiracy of Catiline. What pru lent Man, would not rather follow the Example of his Retreat, than stay like Cato, with a stubborn unseasonable Virtue, to oppose the Torrent of the People, and at last be driven from the Marketplace by a Riot of a Multitude, uncapable of Counsel, and deaf to Eloquence? There is likewise a Portion of our Lives, which every Wise Man may justly reserve to his own peculiar use, and that without defrauding his Native Coutry. A Roman Soldier was allowed to plead the Merit of his Services for his dismission at such an Age; and there was but one Exception to that Rule, which was, an Invasion from the Gauls. How far that, may work with your Lordship, I am not certain; but I hope it is not coming to the Trial.  
In the mean time, while the Nation is secured from Foreign Attempts, by so powerful a Fleet, and we enjoy not only the Happiness, but even the Ornaments of Peace, in the Divertisement of the Town, I humbly offer you this Trifle, which if it succeed upon the Stage, is like to be the chiefest Entertainment of our Ladies and Gentlemen this Summer. When I wrote it, seven Years ago, I employed some reading about it, to inform myself out of Beda, Bochartus, and other Authors, concerning the Rites and Customs of the Heathen Saxons; as I also used the little Skill I have in Poetry to adorn it. But not to offend the present Times, nor a Government which has hitherto protected me, I have been obliged so much to alter the first Design, and take away so many Beauties from the Writing, that it is now no more what it was sormerly, than the present Ship of the Royal Sovereign, after so often taking down, and altering, to the Vessel it was at the first 〈◊〉. There is nothing better, than what I intended, 〈◊〉 the Music; which has since arrived to a greater Perfection in England, than ever formerly: especially passing through the Artful Hands of Mr. Purcel, who has Composed it with so great a Genius, that he has nothing to fear but an ignorant, ill-judging Audience. But the Numbers of Poetry and Vocal Music, are sometimes so contrary, that in many places I have been obliged to cramp my Verses, and make them rugged to the Reader, that they may be harmonious to the Hearer: Of which I have no Reason to repent me, because these sorts of Entertainment are principally designed for the Ear and Eye; and therefore in Reason my Art on this occasion, aught to be subservient to his And besides, I flatter myself with an Imagination that a Judicious Audience will easily distinguish betwixt the Songs, wherein I have complied with him, and those in which I have followed the Rules of Poetry, in the Sound and Cadence of the Words. Notwithstanding all these Disadvantages, there is somewhat still remaining of the first Spirit with which I wrote it: And, though I can only speak by guess, of what pleased my first and best Patroness the Duchess of Monmouth in the reading, yet I will venture my Opinion, by the knowledge I have long had of her Graces Excellent Judgement, and true taste of Poetry, that the parts of the Airy and Earthy Spirits, and that Fairy kind of writing, which depends only upon the Force of Imagination, were the Grounds of her liking the Poem, and afterwards of her Recommending it to the Queen. I have likewise had the satisfaction to hear, that Her Majesty has Graciously been pleased to peruse the Manuscript of this Opera, and given it Her Royal Approbation. Poets, who subsist not but on the Favour of Sovereign Princes, and of great Persons, may have leave to be a little vain, and boast of their Patronage, who encourage the Genius that animates them. And therefore I will again presume to guess, that Her Majesty was not displeased to find in this Poem the Praises of Her Native Country; and the Heroic Actions of so famous a Predecessor in the Government of Great Britain, as King Arthur.  
All this, My Lord, I must confess, looks with a kind of Insinuation, that I present you with somewhat not unworthy your Protection: But I may easily mistake the Favour of Her Majesty for Her Judgement: I think I cannot be deceived in thus addressing to your Lordship, whom I have had the Honour to know, at that distance which becomes me, for so many Years. 'Tis true, that formerly I have shadowed some part of your Virtues, under another Name; but the Character, though short and imperfect, was so true, that it broke through the Fable, and was discovered by its Native Light. What I pretend by this Dedication, is an Honour which I do myself to Posterity, by acquainting them that I have been conversant with the first Persons of the Age in which I lived; and thereby perpetuate my Prose, when my Verses may possibly be forgotten, or obscured by the Fame of Future Poets. Which Ambition, amongst my other Faults and Imperfections, be pleased to pardon, in  
My LORD, Your Lordship's most Obedient Servant, John Dryden.   

Dramatis Personae.  

KIng Arthur.— Mr. Betterton.  
Oswald, King of Kent, a Saxon and a Heathen.— Mr. Williams.  
Conon, Duke of Cornwall, Tributary to King Arthur. Mr. Hodgson.  
Merlin, a famous Enchanter.— Mr. Kynaston.  
Osmond, a Saxon Magician, and a Heathen.— Mr. Sandford.  
Aurelius, Friend to Arthur.— Mr. Alexander.  
Albanact, Captain of Arthur's Guards.— Mr. Bowen.  
Guillamar, Friend to Ofwald.— Mr. Harris.   

WOMEN.  
Emmeline, Daughter of Conon.— Mrs. Bracegirdle.  
Matilda, her Attendant.— Mrs. Richardson.  
Philidel, an Airy Spirit.— Mrs. Butler.  
Grimbald, an Earthy Spirit.— Mr. Bowman.   
Officers and Soldiers, Singers and Dancers, etc.  
Scene in KENT.   

King ARTHUR: OR, The British Worthy.  

ACT I. SCENE I  Enter Conon, Aurelius, Albanact. Con. 
THen this is the deciding Day, to fix  
Great Britain's Sceptre in great Arthur's Hand.  Aur. 
Or put it in the bold Invaders gripe.  
Arthur and Oswald, and their different Fates,  
Are weighing now within the Scales of Heaven.  Con. 
In Ten set Battles have we driven back  
These Heathen Saxons, and regained our Earth.  
As Earth recovers from an Ebbing Tide,  
Her half-drowned Face, and lifts it o'er the Waves.  
From Severn's Banks, even to this Barren-Down,  
Our foremost Men have pressed their fainty Rear,  
And not one Saxon Face has been beheld;  
But all their Backs, and Shoulders have been stuck  
With foul dishonest Wounds: Now here, indeed,  
Because they have no further Ground, they stand.  Aur. 
Well have we chose a Happy day for Fight;  
For every Man, in course of time, has found  
Some days are lucky, some unfortunate.  Alb. 
But why this day more lucky than the rest?  Con. 
Because this day  
Is Sacred to the Patron of our Isle;  
A Christian, and a Soldiers Annual Feast.  Alb. 
Oh, now I understand you, This is St. George of Cappadocia's Day.  
Well, It may be so, but Faith I was Ignorant; we Soldiers  
Seldom examine the Rubric; and now and then a Saint may  
Happen to slip by us; But if he be a Gentleman Saint, he will  
Forgive us.  Con. 
Oswald, undoubtedly will Fight it bravely.  Aur. 
And it behoves him well, 'tis his last Stake. To Alb.  
But what manner of Man is this Oswald? Have ye ever seen him?  Al. 
Ne'er but once; & that was to my Cost too; I followed him too close,  
And to say Truth, somewhat Uncivilly, upon a Rout;  
But he turned upon me, as quick and as round, as a chafted Boar;  
And gave me two Licks across the Face, to put me  
In mind of my Christianity.  Con. 
I know him well; he's free and open Hearted.  Aur. 
His Country's Character: That Speaks a German.  Con. 
Revengeful, rugged, violently brave; and once relolved is never to be moved.  Alb. 
Yes, he's a valiant Dog, Pox on him.  Con. 
This was the Character he then maintained,  
Whon in my Court, he sought my Daughter's Love:  
My Fair, Blind, Emmeline.  Alb. 
I cannot blame him for Courting the Heiress of Cornwall:  
All Heiresses are Beautiful; and as Blind as she is, he would have had  
No Blind Bargain of her.  Aur. 
For that Defeat in Love, he raised this War.  
For Royal Arthur Reigned within her Heart,  
Ere Oswald moved his Suit.  Con. 
Ay, now Aurelius, you have Named a Man;  
One, whom besides the Homage that I own,  
As Cornwall's Duke, to his Imperial Crown,  
I would have chosen out, from all Mankind,  
To be my Sovereign Lord.  Aur. 
His Worth divides him from the crowd of Kings;  
So Born, without Desert to be so Born;  
Men, set aloft, to be the Scourge of Heaven;  
And with long Arms, to lash the Under-World.  Con. 
Arthur is all that's Excellent in Oswald;  
And void of all his Faults: In Battle brave;  
But still Serene in all the Stormy War,  
Like Heaven above the Clouds; and after Fight,  
As Merciful and Kind, to vanquished Foes,  
As a Forgiving God; but see, he's here,  
And Praise is Dumb before him.  Enter King Arthur, Reading a Letter, with Attendants. Arthur Reading. 
Go on, Auspicious Prince, the Stars are kind:  
Unfold thy Banners to the willing Wind;  
While I, with Airy Legions, help thy Arms;  
Confronting Art with Art, and Charms with Charms.  
So Merlin writes; nor can we doubt th' event, To Con.  
With Heaven and you to Friends; Oh Noble Conon,  
You taught my tender Hands the Trade of War;  
And now again you Helm your hoary Head,  
And under double weight of Age and Arms,  
Assert your Country's Freedom, and my Crown.  Con. 
No more, my Son.  Arth. 
Most happy in that Name!  
Your Emmeline, to Oswald's Vows refused,  
You made my plighted Bride:  
Your Charming Daughter, who like Love, Born Blind,  
Un-aiming hits, with surest Archery,  
And Innocently kills.  Con. 
Remember, Son,  
You are a General, other Wars require you.  
For see the Saxon Gross gins to move.  Arth. 
Their Infantry Embattled, square and close,  
March firmly on, to fill the middle space:  
Covered by their advancing Cavalry.  
By Heaven, 'tis Beauteous Horror:  
The Noble Oswald has provoked my Envy.  Enter Emmeline, led by Matilda. 
Ha! Now my Beauteous Emmeline appears  
Anew, but Oh, a softer Flame, inspires me:  
Even Rage and Vengeance, slumber at her sight.  Con. 
Haste your Farewell; I'll cheer my Troops, and wait ye.  Exit Conon. Em. 
Oh Father, Father, I am sure you're here;  
Because I see your Voice.  Arth. 
No, thou mistak'st thy hearing for thy sight;  
He's gone, my Emmeline;  
And I but stay to gaze on those fair Eyes,  
Which cannot view the Conquest they have made.  
Oh Starlike Night, dark only to thyself,  
But full of Glory, as those Lamps of Heaven  
That see not, when they shine.  Em. 
What is this Heaven, and Stars, and Night, and Day,  
To which you thus compare my Eyes and me?  
I understand you, when you say you love:  
For, when my Father clasps my Hand in his,  
That's cold, and I can feel it hard and wrinkled;  
But when you grasp it, than I sigh and pant,  
And something smarts, and tickles at my Heart.  Arth. 
Oh Artless Love! where the Soul moves the Tongue,  
And only Nature speaks what Nature thinks!  
Had she but Eyes!  Em. 
Just now you said I had:  
I see 'em, I have two.  Arth. 
But neither see.  Em. 
I'm sure they hear you then:  
What can your Eyes do more?  Arth. 
They view your Beauties.  Em. 
Do not I see? You have a Face, like mine,  
Two Hands, and two round, pretty, rising Breasts,  
That heave like mine.  Arth. 
But you describe a Woman.  
Nor is it sight, but touching with your Hands.  Em. 
Then 'tis my Hand that sees, and that's all one:  
For is not seeing, touching with your Eyes?  Arth. 
No, for I see at distance, where I touch not.  Em. 
If you can see so far, and yet not touch,  
I fear you see my Naked Legs and Feet  
Quite through my ; pray do not see so well.  Arth. 
Fear not, sweet Innocence;  
I view the lovely Features of your Face;  
Your Lips Carnation, your dark shaded Eyebrows,  
Black Eyes, And Snow white Forehead; all the Colours  
That make your Beauty, and produce my Love.  Em. 
Nay, then, you do not love on equal terms:  
I love you dearly, without all these helps:  
I cannot see your Lips Carnation,  
Your shaded Eyebrows, nor your Milk-white Eyes.  Arth. 
You still mistake.  Em. 
Indeed I thought you had a Nose and Eyes,  
And such a Face as mine; have not Men Faces?  Arth. 
Oh, none like yours, so excellently fair.  Em. 
Then would I had no Face; for I would be Just such a one as you.  Arth. 
Alas, 'tis vain to instruct your Innocence,  
You have 〈…〉 of Light or Colours.  Emmel. 
Why, is not that a Trumpet? Trumpet sound within.  Arth. 
Yes.  Em. 
I knew it.  
And I can tell you how the sound on't looks:  
It looks as if it had an angry fight Face.  Arth. 
'Tis now indeed a sharp unpleasant sound,  
Because it calls me hence, from her I love,  
To meet Ten thousand Foes.  Em. 
How does so many Men e'er come to meet?  
This Devil Trumpet vexes 'em, and then  
They feel about, for one another's Faces;  
And so they meet, and kill.  Arth. 
I'll tell ye all, when we have gained the Field;  
One kiss of your fair Hand, the pledge of Conquest,  
And so a short farewell.  Kisses her Hand, and Exit with Aurel. Alb. and Attendants. Em. 
My Heart, and Vows, go with him to the Fight:  
May every Foe, be that, which they call blind,  
And none of all their Swords have Eyes to find him.  
But lead me nearer to the Trumpet's Face;  
For that brave Sound upholds my sainting Heart;  
And while I hear, methinks I sight my part.  Exit, led by 〈…〉 Enter Oswald and Osmond. The Scene represents a place of Heathen worship; The three Saxon Gods, Woden, Thor, and Freya placed on Pedestals. An Altar. Osmo. 
'Tis time to hasten our mysterious Rites;  
Because your Army waits you.  Oswald making three Bows before the three Images. Oswa. 
Thor, Freya, Woden, all ye Saxon Powers,  
Hear and revenge my Father Hengist's death.  Osmo. 
Father of Gods and Men, great Woden, hear.  
Mount thy hot Courfer, drive amidst thy Foes;  
List high thy thundering Arm, let every blow  
Dash out a misbelieving Briton's Brains.  Oswa. 
Father of Gods and Men, great Woden hear;  
Give Conquest to thy Saxon Race, and me.  Osmo. 
Thor, Freya, Woden, hear, and spell your Saxons,  
With Sacred Runick Rhimes, from Death in Battle.  
Edge their bright Swords, and blunt the Britons Darts.  
No more, Great Prince, for see my trusty Fiend,  
Who all the Night has winged the dusky Air.  
Grimbald, a fierce earthy Spirit arises.  
What news, my Grimbald?  Grim. 
I have played my part;  
For I have Steeled the Fools that are to die;  
Six Fools, so prodigal of Life and Soul,  
That, for their Country, they devote their Lives  
A Sacrifice to Mother Earth, and Woden.  Osmo. 
'Tis well; But are we sure of Victory?  Grim. 
Why ask'st thou me?  
Inspect their Entrails, draw from thence thy Guests:  
Blood we must have, without it we are dumb.  Osmo. 
Say, Where's thy fellow-servant, Philidel?  
Why comes not he?  Grim. 
For, he's a puling Spirit.  
Why didst thou choose a tender airy Form,  
Unequal to the mighty work of Mischief;  
His Make is flitting, soft, and yielding Atoms:  
He trembles at the yawning gulf of Hell,  
〈◊〉 dares approach the Flame, lest he should sing  
〈◊〉 gaudy silken Wings.  
He sighs when he should plunge a Soul in Sulphur,  
As with Compassion, touched of foolish man.  Osm. 
What a half Devil's he?  
His Errand was, to draw the Low-land damps,  
And Noisome vapours, from the soggy Fens:  
Then, breath the baleful stench, with all his force,  
Full on the faces of our Christened Foes.  Grim. 
Accordingly he drained those Marshy-grounds;  
And bagged 'em in a blue pestiferous Cloud;  
Which when he should have blown, the frighted Else.  
Espied the Red Cross Banners of their Host;  
And said he durst not add to his damnation.  Osm. 
I'll punish him at leisure;  
Call in the Victims to propitiate Hell.  Grim. 
That's my kind Master, I shall break fast on 'em.  Grimbald goes to the Door, and Reenters with 6 Saxons in White, with Swords in their hands. They range themselves 3 and 3 in opposition to each other. The rest of the Stage is filled with Priests and Singers. 
Wooden, first to thee,  
A Milk white Steed, in Battle won;  
We have Sacrificed.  
Chor. We have Sacrificed.  
Verse. Let our next Oblation be,  
To Thor, thy thundering Son,  
Of such another.  
Chor. We have Sacrificed.  
Verse. A third; (of Friezeland breed was he,)  
To Woden 's Wife, and to Thor 's Mother:  
And now we have atoned all three  
We have Sacrificed.  
Chor. We have Sacrificed.  
2 Voc. The White Horse Neighed aloud.  
To Wooden thanks we render.  
To Wooden, we have vowed.  
Chor. To Wooden, our Defender.  The four last Lines in CHORUS. 
Verse. The Lot is Cast, and Tanfan pleased:  
Chor. Of Mortal Cares you shall be eased,  
Brave Souls to be renowned in Story.  
Honour prising,  
Death despising,  
Fame acquiring  
By Expiring,  
Die, and reap the fruit of Glory.  
Brave Souls to be renowned in Story.  
Verse. 2. I call ye all,  
To Woden 's Hall;  
Your Temples round  
With Ivy bound,  
In Goblets Crowned,  
And plenteous Bowls of burnished Gold;  
Where you shall Laugh,  
And dance and quaff,  
The Juice, that makes the Britons bold.  The six Saxons are led off by the Priests, in Order to be Sacrificed. Owes. 
Ambitious Fools we are,  
And yet Ambition is a Godlike Fault:  
Or rather, 'tis no Fault in Souls Born great,  
Who dare extend their Glory by their Deeds.  
Now Britain prepare to change thy State,  
And from this Day begin thy Saxon date.  
A Battle supposed to be given behind the Scenes, with Drums, Trumpet's, and Military Shouts and Excursions: After which, the Britons, expressing their Joy for the Victory, sing this Song of Triumph.  

COme if you dare, our Trumpets sound;  
Come if you dare, the Faes rebound:  
We come, we come, we come, we come,  
Says the double, double, double Beat of the Thundering Drum.   

Now they charge on amain,  
Now they rally again:  
The Gods from above the Mad Labour behold,  
And pity Mankind that will perish for Gold.   

The Fainting Saxons quit their Ground,  
Their Trumpets Languish in the Sound;  
They fly, they fly, they fly, they fly;  
Victoria, Victoria, the Bold Britons cry.   

Now the Victory's won,  
To the Plunder we run:  
We return to our Lasses like Fortunate Traders,  
Triumphant with Spoils of the Vanquished Invaders.    

ACT II.  Enter Philidel. Phil. 
ALas, for pity, of this bloody Field!  
Piteous it needs must be, when I, a Spirit,  
Can have so soft a sense of Humane Woes!  
Ah! for so many Souls, as but this Morn '  
Were clothed with Flesh, and warmed with Vital Blood,  
But naked now, or shirted but with Air.  Merlin, with Spirits, descends to Philidel, on a Chariot drawn by Dragons. Mer. 
What art thou, Spirit, of what Name and Order?  
(For I have viewed thee in my Magic Glass,)  
Making thy moan, among the Midnight Wolves,  
That Bay the silent Moon: Speak, I Conjure thee,  
'Tis Merlin bids thee, at whose awful Wand,  
The pale Ghost quivers, and the grim Fiend gasps.  Phil. 
An Airy Shape, the tenderest of my kind,  
The last seduced, and least deformed of Hell;  
Half white, and shuffled in the Crowd, I fell;  
Desirous to repent, and loath to sin,  
Awkward in Mischief, piteous of Mankind,  
My Name is Philidel, my Lot in Air,  
Where next beneath the Moon, and nearest Heaven,  
I soar; and have a Glimpse to be received,  
For which the swarthy Daemons envy me.  Mer. 
Thy Business here?  Phil. 
To shun the Saxon Wizards dire Commands,  
Osmend, the awful'st Name next thine below,  
'Cause I refused to hurl a Noisome Fog  
On Christened Heads, the Hue and Cry of Hell  
Is raised against me, for a Fugitive Spirit.  Mer. 
Osmond shall know, a greater Power protects thee;  
But follow thou the Whispers of thy Soul,  
That draw thee nearer Heaven.  
And, as thy place is nearest to the Sky,  
The Rays will reach thee first, and bleach thy Soot.  Phil. 
In hope of that, I spread my Azure Wings,  
And wishing still, for yet I dare not pray,  
I bask in Daylight, and behold with Joy  
My Scum work outward, and my Rust wear off.  Mer. 
Why, 'tis my hopeful Devil; now mark me, Philidel,  
I will employ thee, for thy future Good:  
Thou knowst, in spite of Valiant Oswald's Arms,  
Or Osmond's Powerful Spells, the Field is ours.—  Phil. 
Oh Master! hasten  
Thy Dread Commands; for Grimbald is at Hand;  
Osmond's fierce Fiend, I snuff his Earthy Scent:  
The Conquering Britons, he misleads to Rivers,  
Or dreadful Downfalls of unheeded Rocks;  
Where many fall, that ne'er shall rise again.  Mer. 
Be that thy care, to stand by falls of Brooks,  
And trembling Bogs, that bear a Green-Sword show.  
Warn off the bold Pursuers from the Chase:  
No more, they come, and we divide the Task.  
But lest fierce Grimbala's ponderous Bulk oppress  
Thy tender flitting Air, I'll leave my Band  
Of Spirits with United Strength to Aid thee,  
And Force with Force repel.  Exit Merlin on his Chariot. Merlin 's Spirits stay with Philidel. Enter Grimbald in the Habit of a Shepherd, followed by King Arthur, Conon, Aurelius, Albanact and Soldiers, who wander at a distance in the Scenes. Grim. 
Here, this way, Britons, follow Oswald's flight;  
This Evening as I whistled out my Dog,  
To drive my straggling Flock, and pitched my Fold,  
I saw him dropping Sweat, over laboured, stiff,  
Make faintly as he could, to yonder Dell.  
Tread in my Steps; long Neighbourhood by Day  
Has made these Fields familiar in the Night.  Arth. 
I thank thee, Shepherd;  
Expect Reward, lead on, we follow thee.  
Phil. sings. Hither this way, this way bend,  
Trust not that Malicious Fiend:  
Those are false deluding Lights,  
Wafted far and near by Sprights.  
Trust 'em not, for they'll deceive ye;  
And in Bogs and Marshes leave ye.  
Chor. of Phil. Spirits. Hither this way, this way bend.  
Chor. of Grimb. Spirits. This way, this way bend.  
Phil. sings. If you step, no Danger thinking,  
Down you fall, a Furlong sinking:  
'Tis a Fiend who has annoyed ye;  
Name but Heaven, and he'll avoid ye.  
Chor. of Phil. Spirits. Hither this way, this way bend.  
Chor. of Grimb. Spirits. This way, this way bend.  
Philidels' Spirits. Trust not that Malicious Fiend.  
Grimbalds' Spirits. Trust me, I am no Malicious Fiend.  
Philidels' Spirits. Hither this way, etc.  Con. 
Some wicked Phantom, Foe to Human kind,  
Misguides our Steps.  Alba. 
I'll follow him no farther.  Grimbald speaks. 
By Hell she sings 'em back, in my despite.  
I had a Voice in Heaven, ere Sulphurous Steams.  
Had damped it to a hoarseness; but I'll try.  

He sings. Let not a Moon-born Elf misled ye,  
From your Prey, and from your Glory.  
Too far, Alas, he has betrayed ye:  
Fellow the Flames, that wave before ye:  
Sometimes seven, and sometimes one;  
Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry on.   

2.  
See, see, the Footsteps plain appearing,  
That way Oswald chose for flying:  
Firm is the Turf, and fit for bearing,  
Where yonder Pearly Dews are lying.  
Far he cannot hence be gone;  
Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry on.   Aur. 
'Tis true, he says; the Footsteps yet are fresh  
Upon the Sod, no falling Dew-Drops have  
Disturbed the Print.  All are going to follow Grimbald. 
Philidel sings. Hither this way.  
Chor. of Phil. Spirits. Hither this way, this way bend.  
Chor. of Grimb. Spirits. This way, this way bend.  
Philidels' Spirits. Trust not that Malicious Fiend.  
Grimb. Spirits. Trust me, I am no Malicious Fiend.  
Philidels' Spirits. Hither this way, etc.  They all incline to Philidel. Grim. speaks. 
Curse on her Voice, I must my Prey forego;  
Thou, Philidel, shalt answer this, below.  Grimbald sinks with a Flash. Arth. 
At last the Cheat is plain;  
The Clovenfooted Fiend is Vanished from us;  
Good Angels be our Guides, and bring us back.  
Phil. singing. Come follow, follow, follow me.  
Chor. Come follow, etc.  
And me. And me. And me. And me.  
Vers. 2 Voc. And Green-Sword all your way shall be.  
Chor. Come follow, etc.  
Verse. No Goblin or Elf shall dare to offend ye.  
Chor. No, no, no, etc.  
No Goblin or Elf shall dare to offend ye.  
Vers. 3 Voc. We Brethren of Air,  
You Hero 's will bear,  
To the Kind and the Fair that attend ye.  
Chor. We Brethren, etc.  Philidel and the Spirits go off singing, with King Arthur and the rest in the middle of them. Enter Emmeline led by Matilda. Pavilicn Scene. Em. 
No News of my Dear Love, or of my Father?  Mat. 
None, Madam, since the gaining of the Battle;  
Great Arthur is a Royal Conqueror now,  
And well deserves your Love.  Em. 
But now I fear  
He'll be too great, to love poor silly me.  
If he be dead, or never come again,  
I mean to die: But there's a greater doubt,  
Since I ne'er saw him here,  
How shall I meet him in another World?  Mat. 
I have heard something, how two Bodies meet,  
But how Souls join, I know not.  Em. 
I should find him,  
For surely I have seen him in my Sleep,  
And then, methought, he put his Mouth to mine,  
And eat a thousand Kisses on my Lips;  
Sure by his Kissing I could find him out  
Among a thousand Angels in the Sky.  Mat. 
But what a kind of Man do you suppose him?  Em. 
He must be made of the most precious things:  
And I believe his Mouth, and Eyes, and Cheeks,  
And Nose, and all his Face, are made of Gold.  Mat. 
Heaven bless us, Madam, what a Face you make him.  
If it be yellow, he must have the Jaundice,  
And that's a bad Disease.  Em. 
Why then do Lovers give a thing so bad  
As Gold, to Women, whom so well they love?  Mat. 
Because that bad thing, Gold, buys all good things.  Em. 
Yet I must know him better: Of all Colours,  
Tell me which is the purest, and the softest.  Mat. 
They say 'tis Black.  Em. 
Why then, since Gold is hard, and yet is precious,  
His Face must all be made of soft, black Gold.  Mat. 
But, Madam—  Em. 
No more; I have learned enough for once.  Mat. 
Here are a Crew of Kentish Lads and Lasses.  
Would entertain ye, till your Lord's return,  
With Songs and Dances, to divert your Cares.  Em. 
O bring 'em in,  
For tho' I cannot see the Songs, I love 'em;  
And Love, they tell me, is a Dance of Hearts.  Enter Shepherd's and Shepherdess's. 
1 Shepherd sings. How blessed are Shepherds, how happy their Lasses,  
1 Shepherd sings. While Drums & Trumpets are sounding Alarms!  
1 Shepherd sings. Over our Lowly Sheds all the Storm passes;  
And when we die, 'tis in each others Arms.  
All the Day on our Herds, and Flocks employing;  
All the Night on our Flutes, and in enjoying.  
Chor. All the Day, etc.  

2.  
Bright Nymphs of Britain, with Graces attended,  
Let not your Days without Pleasure expire,  
Honour's but empty, and when Youth is ended,  
All Men will praise you, but none will desire.  
Let not Youth fly away without Contenting;  
Age will come time enough, for your Repenting.  
Chor. Let not Youth, etc.   Here the Men offer their Flutes to the Women, which they refuse. 
2 Shepherdess. Shepherd, Shepherd, leave Decoying,  
2 Shepherdess. Pipes are sweet, a Summer's Day;  
But a little after Toying,  
Women have the Shot to Pay.  

2.  
Here are Marriage-Vows for signing,  
Set their Marks that cannot write:  
After that, witghout Repining,  
Play and Welcome, Day and Night.   Here the Women give the Men Contracts, which they accept. 
Chor. of all. Come, Shepherd's, lead up, a lively Measure;  
Chor. of all. The Cares of Wedlock, are Cares of Pleasure:  
But whether Marriage bring Joy, or Sorrow,  
Make sure of this Day, and hang to Morrow.  The Dance after the Song, and Exeunt Shepherds and Shepherdesses. Enter on the other side of the Stage, Oswald and Guillamar. Osw. 
The Night has wildered us; and we are fallen  
Among their foremost Tents.  Guill. 
Ha! What are these!  
They seem of more than Vulgar Quality.  Em. 
What Sounds are those? They cannot far be distant:  
Where are we now, Matilda?  Mat. 
Just before your Tent:  
Fear not, they must be Friends, and they approach.  Em. 
My Arthur, speak, my Love; Are you returned  
To bless your Emmeline?  Oswa. to Guilla. 
I know that Face:  
'Tis my Ungrateful Fair, who, scorning mine,  
Accepts my Rival's Love: Heaven, thou'rt bounteous,  
Thou ow'st me nothing now.  Mat. 
Fear grows upon me:  
Speak what you are; speak, or I call for help.  Oswa. 
We are your Guards.  Mat. 
Ah me! We are betrayed; 'tis Oswala's Voice.  Em. 
Let 'em not see our Voices, and then they cannot find us.  Osw. 
Passions in Men Oppressed, are doubly strong.  
I take her from King Arthur; there's Revenge:  
If she can love, she buoys my sinking Portunes:  
Good Reasons both: I'll on.— Fear nothing, Ladies,  
You shall be safe.  Oswald and Guillamar serve Emmeline and Matilda. Em. & Matil. 
Help, help; a Rape, a Rape!  Oswa. 
By Heaven ye injure me, though Perce is used,  
Your Honour shall be sacred.  Em. 
Help, help, Oh Britons. help!  Oswa. 
Your Britons cannot help you:  
This Arm, through all their Troops, shall force my way;  
Yet neither quit my Honour, nor my Prey.  Exeunt, the Women still crying. An Alarm within: Some Soldiers running over the Stage: Fellow, follow, follow. Enter Albanact Captain of the Guurds, with Soldiers. Alb. 
Which way went th' Alarm?  1 Sol. 
Here, towards the Castle.  Alb. 
Pox o' this Victory; the whole Camp's debauched:  
All Drunk or Whoring: This way, follow, follow.  Exeunt. The Alarm renews: Clashing of Swords within for a while. Re-enter Albanact, Officer and Soldiers. Officer. 
How sits the Conquest on great Arthur's Brow?  Alba. 
As when the Lover, with the King is mixed,  
He puts the gain of Britain in a Scale,  
Which weighing with the loss of Emmeline,  
He thinks he's scarce a Saviour.  Strumpet within. Officer. 
Hark! a Trumpet!  
It sounds a Parley.  Alba. 
'Tis from Oswald then,  
An Echo to King Arthur's Friendly Summons,  
Sent since he heard the Rape of Emmeline,  
To ask an Interview.  Trumpet answering on the other side. Officer. 
But hark! already  
Our Trumpet makes reply; and see both present.  Enter Arthur on one side attended, Oswald on the other with Attendants, and Guillamar. They meet and salute. Arthur. 
Brave Oswald! We have met on Friendlier Terms,  
Companions of a War, with Common Interest  
Against the Bordering Picts: But Times are changed.  Oswa. 
And 〈…〉  
〈…〉  Arth. 
If so we meet not now, the fault's your own;  
For you have wronged me much.  Oswa. 
Oh you would tell me,  
I called more Saxons in, t' enlarge my Bounds:  
If those be Wrongs, the War has well redressed ye.  Arth. 
Mistake me not, I count not War a Wrong:  
War is the Trade of Kings, that fight for Empire;  
And better be a Lion, than a Sheep.  Oswa. 
In what, then, have I wronged ye?  Arth. 
In my Love.  Oswa. 
Even Love's an Empire too; The Noble Soul,  
Like Kings, is Covetous of single Sway.  Arth. 
I blame ye not, for loving Emmeline:  
But since the Soul is free, and Love is choice,  
You should have made a Conquest of her Mind,  
And not have forced her Person by a Rape.  Oswa. 
Whether by Force, or Stratagem, we gain;  
Still Gaining is our End, in War or Love.  
Her Mind's the Jewel, in her Body locked;  
If I would gain the Gem, and want the Key,  
It follows I must seize the Cabinet:  
But to secure your fear, her Honour is untouched.  Arth. 
Was Honour ever safe in Brutal Hands?  
So safe are Lambs within the Lion's Paw;  
Ungriped and played with, till fierce Hunger calls,  
Then Nature shows itself; the close-hid Nails  
Are stretched, and opened, to the panting Prey.  
But if indeed, you are so Cold a Lover—  Oswa. 
Not Cold, but Honourable.  Arth. 
Then Restore her.  
That done, I shall believe you Honourable.  Oswa. 
Thinkest thou I will forego a Victor's Right?  Arth. 
Say rather, of an Impious Ravisher.  
That Castle, were it walled with Adamant,  
Can hid thy Head, but till to Morrow's Dawn.  Oswa. 
And ere to Morrow, I may be a God,  
If Emmeline be kind: But kind or cruel,  
I tell thee, Arthur, but to see this Day,  
That Heavenly Face, tho' not to have her mine,  
I would give up a hundred Years of Life,  
And bid Fate cut to Morrow.  Arth. 
It soon will come, and thou repent too late;  
Which to prevent, I'll bribe thee to be honest.  
Thy Noble Head, accustomed to a Crown,  
Shall wear it still: Nor shall thy Hand forget  
The Sceptre's use: From Medway's pleasing Stream,  
To Severn's Roar, be thine.  
In short, Restore my Love, and share my Kingdom.  Oswa. 
Not, tho' you spread my Sway from Thames to Tiber;  
Such Gifts might bribe a King, but not a Lover.  Arth. 
Then prithee give me back my Kingly Word,  
Passed for thy safe return; and let this Hour,  
In single Combat, Hand to Hand, decide  
The Fate of Empire, and of Emmeline.  Oswa. 
Not, that I fear, do I decline this Combat;  
And not decline it neither, but defer:  
When Emmeline has been my Prize as long  
As she was thine, I dare thee to the Duel.  Arth. 
I named your utmost Term of Life; To Morrow.  Oswa. 
You are not Fate.  Arth. 
But Fate is in this Arm.  
You might have made a Merit of your Theft.  Oswa. 
Ha! Theft! Your Guards can tell, I stole her not.  Arth. 
Had I been present—  Oswa. 
Had you been present, she had been mine more Nobly.  Arth. 
There lies your way.  Oswa. 
My way lies where I please.  
Expect (for Oswald's Magic cannot fail)  
A long To Morrow, ere your Arms prevail:  
Or if I fall, make Room ye blessed above,  
For one who was undone, and died for Love.  Exit Oswald and his Party. Arth. 
There may be one black Minute ere To Morrow:  
For who can tell, what Power, and Lust, and Charms,  
May do this Night? To Arms, with speed, to Arms.  Exit.  

ACT III.  Enter Arthur, Conon and Aurelius. Con. 
Furl up our Colours, and Unbrace our Drums;  
Dislodge betimes; and quit this fatal Coast.  Arth. 
Have we forgot to Conquer?  Aurel. 
Cast off Hope:  
Th' Imbattled Legions of Fire, Air, and Earth,  
Are banded for our Foes.  
For going to discover, with the Dawn,  
You Southern Hill, which promised to the Sight  
A Rise more easy to attack the Fort,  
Scarce had we stepped on the Forbidden Ground,  
When the Woods shook, the Trees stood bristling up;  
A Living Trembling Nodded through the Leaves.  Arth. 
Poplars, and Aspen-Boughs, a Panic Fright.  Arth. 
Poplars, and Aspen-Boughs, a Panic Fright.  Conon. 
We thought so too, and doubled still our pace.  
But straight a rumbling Sound, like bellowing Winds,  
Rose and grew loud; Confused with Howls of Wolves,  
And Grunts of Bears; and dreadful Hiss of Snakes;  
Shrieks more than Humane; Globes of Hail poured down  
An Armed Winter, and Inverted Day.  Arth. 
Dreadful indeed!  Aur. 
Count then our Labour's lost:  
For otherway lies none, to mount the Cliff,  
Unless we borrow Wings, and sail through Air.  Arth. 
Now Uperceive a Danger worthy me.  
'Tis Osmond's Work, a Band of Hell-hired Slaves;  
Be mine the Hazard, mine shall be the Fame.  Arthur is going out, but is met by Merlin, Who takes him by the Hand, and brings him back. Enter Merlin. Merl. 
Hold, Sir, and wait heavens time; th' Attempts too dangerous:  
There's not a Tree in that Enchanted Grove,  
But numbered out, and given by tale to Fiends;  
And under every Leaf a Spirit couched.  
But by what Method to dissolve these Charms,  
Is yet unknown to me.  Arth. 
Hadst thou been here, (for what can what thy Skill?)  
Nor Emmeline had been the boast of Oswald;  
Nor I forewarned, been wanting to her Guard.  Con. 
Her darkened Eyes had seen the Light of Heaven;  
That was thy promise too, and this the time.  Mer. 
Nor has my Aid been absent, tho' unseen,  
With Friendly Guides in your benighted Maze.  
Nor Emmeline shall longer want the Sun.  Arth. 
Is there an end of Woes?  Merl. 
There is, and sudden.  
I have employed a subtle Airy Spirit  
T' explore the passage, and prepare my way.  
Myself, mean time, will view the Magic Wood,  
To learn whereon depends its Force.  Con. 
But Emmeline—  Mer. 
Fear not: This Vial shall restore her sight.  Arth. 
Oh might I hope (and what's impossible  
To Merlin's Art) to be myself the Bearer,  
That with the Light of Heaven she may discern  
Her Lover first.  Mer. 
'Tis wondrous hazardous;  
Yet I foresee th' Event, 'tis fortunate.  
I'll bear ye safe, and bring ye back unharmed:  
Then lose not precious Time, but follow me.  Exeunt Omnes, Merlin leading Arthur. Enter Philidel. Scene, a Deep Wood Phil. 
I left all safe behind;  
For in the hindmost quarter of the Wood,  
My former Lord, Grim Osmond, walks the Round:  
Calls o'er the Names, and Schools the tardy Sprights.  
His Absence gives me more security.  
At every Walk I passed, I drew a Spell,  
So that if any Fiend, abhorring Heaven,  
There sets his Foot, it roots him to the Ground.  
Now could I but discover Emmel ne,  
My Task were fairly done.  [Walking about, and Prying betwixt the Trees.] Enter Grimbald rushing out: He seizes Philidel, and binds him in a Chain. Grimb. 
O Rebel, have I caught thee!  Phil. 
Ah me! What hard mishap!  Grimb. 
What just Revenge!  
Thou miscreant Elf, thou Renegado Scout,  
So clean, so furbished, so renewed in White,  
The Livery of our Foes; I see thee through:  
What makest thou here? Thou trim Apostate, speak.  
Thou shak'st for Fear, I feel thy false Heart Pant.  Phil. 
All mighty Grimbald,  
Who would not Fear, when seized in thy strong Gripe;  
But here me, Oh Renowned, Oh worthy Fiend,  
The Favourite of our Chief.  Grimb. 
Away with fullsome Flattery,  
The Food of Fools; thou knowst where last we met,  
When but for thee, the Christians had been swallowed  
In quaking Bogs, and Living sent to Hell.  Phil. 
Ay, than I was seduced by Merlin's Art,  
And half persuaded by his soothing Tales,  
To hope for Heaven; as if Eternal Doom  
Could be Reversed, and undecreed for me:  
But I am now set Right.  Grimb. 
Oh still thou thinkest to fly a Fool to Mark.  Phil. 
I fled from Merlin, free as Air that bore me,  
T'unfold to Osmond all his deep Designs.  Grimb. 
I believe nothing, Oh thou fond Impostor,  
When wert thou last in Hell? Is not thy Name  
〈…〉  
〈…〉  
To Osmond sha'lt thou go; March, know thy Driver.  Phil. Kneeling. 
Oh spare me Grimbald, and I'll be thy Slave:  
Tempt Hermits for thee, in their Holy Cells,  
And Virgins in their Dreams.  Grimb. 
Canst thou, a Devil, hope to cheat a Devil?  
A Spy; why that's a Name abhorred in Hell;  
Haste forward, forward, or I'll Goad thee on,  
With Iron Spurs.  Phil. 
But use me kindly then:  
Pull not so hard, to hurt my Airy Limbs;  
I'll follow thee unforced; look, there's thy way.  Grimb. 
Ay, there's the way indeed; but for more surety  
I'll keep an Eye behind: Not one Word more,  
But follow decently. Grimbald goes out, draging Philidel.  Phil. aside. 
So, catch him Spell.  Grimb. within. 
Oh help me, help me, Philidel.  Phil. 
Why, What's the matter?  Grimb. 
Oh, I am ensnared;  
heavens Birdlime wraps me round, and glues my Wings.  
Lose me, and I will free thee;  
Do, and I'll be thy Slave.  Phil. 
What, to a Spy, a Name abhorred in Hell?  Grimb. 
Do not insult, Oh, Oh, I grow to Ground;  
The Fiery Net draws closer on my Limbs.  Phil. 
Thou shalt not have the Ease to Curse in Torments:  
Be Dumb for one half Hour; so long my Charm  
Can keep thee Silent, and there lie  
Till Osmond breaks thy Chain.  Philidel unbinds his own Fetters. Enter to him Merlin, with a Vial in his Hand; and Arthur. Mer. 
Well hast thou wrought thy Safety with thy Wit,  
My Philidel; go Meritorious on.  
Me, other Work requires, to view the Wood,  
And learn to make the dire Enchantments void.  
Mean time attend King Arthur in my Room;  
Show him his Love, and with these Sovereign Drops,  
Restore her Sight.  Exit Merlin giving a Viol to Philidel. Phil. 
We must work, we must haste;  
Noontyde Hour, is almost past:  
Sprights, that glimmer in the Sun,  
Into Shades already run.  
Osmond will be here, anon.  Enter Emmeline and Matilda, at the far end of the Wood Arth. 
O yonder, yonder she's already found:  
My Soul directs my sight, and flies before it.  
Now, Gentle Spirit, use thy utmost Art;  
Unseal her Eyes; and this way lead her Steps.  Arthur withdraws behind the Scene. Emmeline and Matilda come forward to the Front. Philidel approaches Emmeline, sprinkling some of the Water over her Eyes, out of the Vial. Phil. 
Thus, thus I infuse  
These Sovereign Dews.  
Fly back, ye Films, that Cloud her sight,  
And you, ye Crystal Humours bright,  
Your Noxious Vapours purged away,  
Recover, and admit the Day.  
Now cast your Eyes abroad, and see  
All but me.  Em. 
Ha! What was that? Who spoke?  Mat. 
I heard the Voice; 'tis one of Osmond's Fiends.  Em. 
Some blessed Angel sure; I feel my Eyes  
Unsealed, they walk abroad, and a new World  
Comes rushing on, and stands all gay before me.  Mat. 
Oh Heavens! Oh Joy of Joys! she has her sight!  Em. 
I am newborn; I shall run mad for Pleasure. Staring on Mat.  
Are Women such as thou? Such Glorious Creatures?  Arth. aside. 
Oh how I envy her, to be first seen!  Em. 
Stand farther; let me take my fill of sight. Looking up.  
What's that above, that weakens my new Eyes,  
Makes me not see, by seeing?  Mat. 
'Tis the Sun.  Em. 
The Sun, 'tis sure a God, if that be Heaven:  
Oh, if thou art a Creature, best and fairest,  
How well art thou, from Mortals so remote,  
To shine, and not to burn, by near approach!  
How hast thou light'ned even my very Soul,  
And let in Knowledge by another sense!  
I gaze about, newborn, to Day and thee;  
A Stranger yet, an Infant of the World!  
Art thou not pleased, Matilda? Why, like me,  
Dost thou not look and wonder?  Mat. 
For these Sights  
Are to my Eyes familiar.  Em. 
That's my Joy,  
Not to have seen before: For Nature now,  
Comes all at once, confounding my Delight.  
But ah! what Thing am I? Fain would I know;  
Or am I blind, or do I see but half?  
With all my Care, and looking round about,  
I cannot view my Face.  Mat. 
None see themselves  
But by Reslection; in this Glass you may. Gives her a Glass.  Emm. taking the Glass, and looking. 
What's this?  
It holds a Face within it: Oh sweet Face;  
It draws the Mouth, and Smiles, and looksupon me;  
And talks; but yet I cannot hear it Speak:  
The pretty thing is Dumb.  Mat. 
The pretty thing  
You see within the Glass, is you.  Emm. 
What, Am I two? Is this another me?  
Indeed it wears my , has Hands like mine;  
And Mocks what e'er I do; but that I'm sure  
I am a Maid, I'd swear it were my Child. Matilda looks.  
Look my Matilda; We both are in the Glass,  
Oh, now I know it plain; they are our Names  
That peep upon us there.  Mat. 
Our Shadows, Madam.  Emm. 
Mine is a prettier Shadow far, then thine.  
I Love it; let me Kiss my tother Self. Kissing the Glass, and hugging it.  
Alas, I've kissed it Dead; the fine Thing's gone;  
Indeed it Kissed so Cold, as if 'twere Dying.  Arthur comes forward softly; showing himself behind her. 
'Tis here again.  
Oh no, this Face is neither mine nor thine;  
I think the Glass has Born another Child. She turns and sees Arthur.  
Ha! What art thou with a new kind of Face,  
And other , a Noble Creature too;  
But taller, bigger, fiercer in thy Look;  
Of a Comptrolling Eye, Majestic make?  Mat. 
Do you not know him, Madam?  Emm. 
Is't a Man?  Arth. 
Yes, And the most unhappy of my kind,  
If you have changed your Love.  Emm. 
My dearest Lord!  
Was my Soul Blind; and could not that look out,  
To know you,  you Spoke? Oh Counterpart  
Of our soft Sex; Well are ye made our Lords,  
So bold, so great, so Godlike are ye formed.  
How can ye Love such silly Things as Women?  Arth. 
Beauty like yours Commands; and Man was made  
But a more boisterous; and a stronger Slave,  
To you, the best Delights of human Kind.  Emm. 
But are ye mine? Is there an end of War  
Are all those Trumpets Dead themselves, at last,  
That used to kill Men with their Thundering Sounds?  Arthur 
The Sum of War is undecided yet;  
And maay a breathing Body must be Cold,  
Ere you are free.  Emm. 
How came ye hither then?  Arth. 
By Merlin's Art, to snatch a short lived Bliss;  
To feed my famished Love upon your Eyes,  
One Moment, and departed.  Emm. 
O Moment, worth—  
Whole Ages passed, and all that are to come!  
Let Lovesick Oswald, now, unpitied mourn;  
Let Osmond mutter Charms to Sprights in vain,  
To make me love him; all shall not change my Soul.  Arth. 
Ha! Does the Enchanter practice Hell upon you?  
Is he my Rival too?  Emm. 
Yes, but I hate him;  
For when he spoke, through my shut Eyes I saw him;  
His Voice looked ugly, and breathed Brimstone on me:  
And then I first was glad that I was Blind,  
Not to behold Damnation.  Phil. 
This time is left me to Congratulate  
Your newborn Eyes; and tell you what you gain  
By sight restored, and viewing him you love.  
Appear, you Airy Forms.  Airy Spirits appear in the Shapes of Men and Women. Man sings. 
Oh Sight, the Mother of Desires,  
What Charming Objects dost thou yield!  
'Tis sweet, when tedious Night expires,  
To see the Rosy Morning gild  
The Mountain-Tops, and paint the Field!  
But, when Clorinda comes in sight,  
She makes the Summer's Day more bright;  
And when she goes away, 'tis Night.  Chor. 
When Fair Clorinda comes in sight, etc.  Wom. sings. 
'Tis sweet the Blushing Morn to view;  
And Plains adorned with Pearly Dew:  
But such cheap Delights to see,  
Heaven and Nature,  
Give each Creature;  
They have Eyes, as well as we.  
This is the Joy, all Joys above,  
To see, to see,  
That only she,  
That only she we love!  Chor. 
This is the Joy, all Joys above, etc.  Man sings. 
And, if we may discover,  
What Charms both Nymph and Lover,  
'Tis, when the Fair at Mercy lies,  
With Kind and Amorous Anguish,  
To Sigh, to Look, to Languish,  
On each others Eyes!  Chor. of all Men & Wom. 
And if we may discover, etc.  Phil. 
Break off your Music; for our Foes are near.  Spirits vanish. Enter Merlin. Merl. 
My Sovereign, we have hazarded too far;  
But Love excuses you, and prescience me.  
Make haste; for Osmond is even now alarmed,  
And greedy of Revenge, is hasting home.  Arth. 
Oh take my Love with us, or leave me here.  Merl. 
I cannot, for she's held by Charms too strong:  
Which, with th' Enchanted Grove must be destroyed;  
Till when, my Art is vain: But fear not, Emmeline;  
Th' Enchanter has no Power on Innocence.  Em. to Arth. 
Farewell, Since we must part: When you are gone,  
I'll look into my Glass, just where you looked;  
To find your Face again;  
If 'tis not there, I'll think on you so long,  
My Heart shall make your Picture for my Eyes.  Arth. 
Wheree'er I go, my Soul shall stay with thee:  
'Tis but my Shadow that I take away;  
True Love is never happy but by halves;  
An April Sunshine, that by fits appears,  
It smiles by Moment's, but it mourns by Years.  Exeunt Arthur and Merlin at one Door. Enter Osmond at the other Door, who gazes on Emmeline, and she on him. Emm. 
Matilda save me, from this ugly Thing,  
This Foe to sight, Speak, dost thou know him:  Matil. 
Too well; 'tis Oswala's Friend, the great Magician.  Emm. 
It cannot be a Man, he's so unlike the Man I Love.  Osm. aside. 
Death to my Eyes, she sees!  Emm. 
I wish I could not; but I'll close my Sight,  
And shut out all I can— It won't be;  
Winking, I see thee still, thy odious Image  
Stairs full into my Soul; and there infects the Room  
My Arthur should possess.  Osm. aside. 
I find too late,  
That Merlin and her Lover have been here.  
If I was sired before, when she was Blind,  
Her Eyes dart Lightning now, she must be mine.  Emm. 
I prithee Dreadful Thing, tell me thy Business here;  
And if thou canst, Reform that odious Face;  
Look not so Grim upon me.  Osm. 
My Name is Osmond, and my Business Love.  Emm. 
Thou hast a griezly look; forbidding what thou asked,  
If I durst tell thee so.  Osm. 
My Penthouse Eyebrows, and my Shaggy Beard  
Offend your Sight, but these are Manly Signs;  
Faint White and Red, abuse your Expectations;  
Be Woman; know your Sex, and Love full Pleasures.  Emm. 
Love from a Monster, Fiend!  Osm. 
Come you must Love, or you must suffer Love;  
No Coiness, None, for I am Master here.  Emm. 
And when did Oswald give away his Power,  
That thou presum'st to Rule? Be sure I'll tell him:  
For as I am his Prisoner, he is mine.  Osm. 
Why then thou art a Captive to a Captive.  
O'er laboured with the Fight, oppressed with Thirst;  
That Oswald whom you mentioned called for Drink:  
I mixed a Sleepy Potion in his Bowl;  
Which he and his Fool Friend, quaffed greedily,  
The happy Dose wrought the desired effect;  
Then to a Dungeons depth, I sent both Bound:  
Where stowed with Snakes and Adders now they lodge,  
Two Planks their Beds; Slippery with Oose and Slime:  
The Rats brush o'er their Faces with their Tails;  
And croaking Paddocks crawl upon their Limbs.  
Since when the Garrison depen is on me;  
Now know you are my Slave.  Matil. 
He strikes a Horror through my Blood.  Emm. 
I Frieze, as if his impious Art had fixed  
My Feet to Earth.  Osm. 
But Love shall thaw ye.  
I'll show his force in Countries caked with Ice,  
Where the pale Polestar in the North of Heaven  
Sits high, and on the frory Winter brood's;  
Yet there Love Reigns: For proof, this Magic Wand.  
Shall change the Mildness of sweet Britain's Clime  
To Yzeland, and the farthest Thule's Frost;  
Where the proud God, disdaining Winter's Bounds,  
O'er leaps the Fences of Eternal Snow,  
And with his Warmth, supplies the distant Sun.  Osmond strikes the Ground with his Wand: The Scene changes to a Prospect of Winter in Frozen Countries. Cupid Descends. Cup. sings. 
What ho, thou Genius of the Clime, what how  
Liest thou asleep beneath those Hills of Snow?  
Stretch out thy Lazy Limbs; Awake, awake,  
And Winter from thy Furry Mantle shake.  Genius Arises. Genius. 
What Power art thou, who from below,  
Hast made me Rise, unwillingly, and slow,  
From Beds of Everlasting Snow!  
Seest thou not how stiff, and wondrous old,  
Far unfit to bear the bitter Cold,  
I can scarcely move, or draw my Breath;  
Let me, let me, Frieze again to Death.  Cupid. 
Thou Doting Fool, forbear, forbear;  
What, Dost thou Dream of Freezing here?  
At Love's appearing, all the Sky clearing,  
The Stormy Winds their Fury spare:  
Winter subduing, and Spring renewing,  
My Beams create a more Glorious Year.  
Thou Doting Fool, forbear, forbear;  
What, Dost thou Dream of Freezing here?  Genius. 
Great Love, I know thee now;  
 of the Gods art Thou:  
Heaven and Earth, by Thee were made.  
Humane Nature,  
Is Thy Creature,  
Every where Thou art obeyed.  Cupid. 
No part of my Dominion shall be waste,  
To spread my Sway, and sing my Praise,  
Even here I will a People raise,  
Of kind embracing Lovers, and embraced.  Cupid waves his Wand, upon which the Scene opens, and discovers a Prospect of Ice and Snow to the end of the Stage. Singers and Dancers, Men and Women, appears. Man. 
See, see, we assemble,  
Thy Revels to hold:  
Though quiv'ring with Cold,  
We Chatter and Tremble.  Cupid. 
'Tis I, 'tis I, 'tis I, that have warmed ye;  
In spite of Cold Wether,  
I've brought ye together:  
'Tis I, 'tis I, 'tis I, that have armed ye.  Chor. 
'Tis Love, 'tis Love, 'tis Love that has warmed us;  
In spite of Cold Wether,  
He brought us together:  
'Tis Love, 'tis Love, 'tis Love that has armed us.  Cupid. 
Sound a Parley, ye Fair, and surrender;  
Set yourselves, and your Lovers at ease;  
He's a Grateful Offender  
Who Pleasure dare seize:  
But the Whining Pretender  
Is sure to displease.  

2.  
Since the Fruit of Desire is possessing,  
'Tis Unmanly to Sigh and Complain;  
When we Kneel for Redressing,  
We move your Disdain:  
Love was made for a Blessing,  
And not for a Pain.   A Dance; after which the Singers and Dancers departed. Emm. 
I could be pleased with any one but thee,  
Who entertained my sight with such Gay Shows,  
As Men and Women moving here and there;  
That Coursing one another in their Steps,  
Have made their Feet a Tune.  Osmo. 
What, Coying it again!  
No more; but make me happy to my Gust,  
That is, without your struggling.  Emm. 
From my sight,  
Thou all thy Devils in one, thou darest not force me.  Osmo. 
You teach me well, I find you would be Ravished;  
I'll give you that excuse your Sex desires.  He gins to lay hold on her, and they struggle. Grimb. within. 
O help me, Master, help me!  Osmo. 
Who's that, my Grimbald! Come and help thou me:  
For 'tis thy Work t'assist a Ravisher.  Grimb. within. 
I cannot stir; I am Spell-caught by Philidel,  
And pursed within a Net. With a huge heavy weight of Holy Words,  
Laid on my Head; that keeps me down from rising  Osmo. 
I'll read 'em backwards, and release thy Bonds:  
Mean time go in:— To Emmeline.  
Prepare yourself, and ease my Drudgery:  
But if you will not fairly be enjoyed,  
A little honest Force, is well employed. Exit Osmond.  Emm. 
Heaven be my Guard, I have no other Friend!  
Heaven ever present to thy Suppliants Aid,  
Protect and pity Innocence betrayed.  Exeunt Emmeline and Matilda.  

ACT iv SCENE I.  Enter Osmond Solus. 
NOw I am settled in my Forceful Sway;  
Why then, I'll be Luxurious in my Love;  
Take my full Gust, and setting Forms aside,  
I'll bid the Slave, that fires my Blood, lie down.  Seems to be going off. Enter Grimbald, who meets him. Grim. 
Not so fast, Master, Danger threatens thee:  
There's a black Cloud, descending from above,  
Full of Heaven's Venom, bursting o'er thy Head.  Osmo. 
Malicious Fiend, thou liest: For I am fenced  
By Millions of thy Fellows, in my Grove:  
I bade thee, when I freed thee from the Charm,  
Run scouting through the Wood, from Tree to Tree,  
And look if all my Devils were on Duty:  
Hadst thou performed thy Charge, thou tardy Spirit,  
Thou wouldst have known no Danger threatened me.  Grim. 
When did a Devil fail in Diligence?  
Poor Mortal, thou thyself art overseen;  
I have been there, and thence I bring this News.  
Thy Fatal Foe, great Arthur, is at hand;  
Merlin has ta'en his time while thou wert absent,  
T' observe thy Characters, their Force, and Nature,  
And Counterwork thy Spells.  Osmo. 
The Devil take Merlin;  
I'll cast 'em all anew, and instantly,  
All of another Mould; be thou at hand.  
Their Composition was, before, of Horror;  
Now they shall be of Blandishment, and Love;  
Seducing Hopes, soft Pity, tender Moans:  
Art shall meet Art; and, when they think to win,  
The Fools shall find their Labour to begin.  Exeunt Osm. and Grimb. Enter Arthur, and Merlin at another Door. Scene of the Wood continues. Merl. 
Thus far it is permitted me to go;  
But all beyond this Spot, is fenced with Charms;  
I may no more; but only with advice.  Arth. 
My Sword shall do the rest.  Merl. 
Remember well, that all is but Illusion;  
Go on; good Stars attend thee.  Arth. 
Doubt me not.  Merl. 
Yet in prevention  
Of what may come, I'll leave my Philidel  
To watch thy Steps, and with him leave my Wand;  
The touch of which, no Earthy Fiend can bear,  
In whate'er Shape transformed, but must lay down  
His borrowed Figure, and confess the Devil.  
Once more Farewell, and prosper. Exit Merlin.  Arth. walking. 
No Danger yet, I see no Walls of Fire,  
No City of the Fiends, with Forms obscene,  
To grin from far, on Flaming Battlements.  
This is indeed the Grove I should destroy;  
But where's the Horror? Sure the Prophet erred.  
Hark! Music, and the warbling Notes of Birds; Soft Music.  
Hell entertains me, like some welcome Guest.  
More Wonders yet; yet all delightful too,  
A Silver Current to forbid my passage,  
And yet to invite me, stands a Golden Bridge:  
Perhaps a Trap, for my Unwary Feet  
To sink, and whelm me underneath the Waves;  
With Fire or Water, let him wage his War,  
Or all the Elements at once; I'll on.  As he is going to the Bridge, two 〈…〉 Water; They show themselves 〈…〉 
1 Siren. O pass not on, but stay,  
And waste the Joyous Day  
With us in gentle Play:  
Unbend to Love, unbend thee:  
O lay thy Sword aside,  
And other Arms provide;  
For other Wars attend thee,  
And sweeter to be tried.  
Chor. For other Wars, etc.  
Both sing. Two Daughters of this Aged Stream are we;  
And both our Sea-green Locks have combed for thee,  
Come  with us an Hour or two,  
Come Naked in, for we are so;  
What Danger from a Naked Foe?  
Come  with us, come , and share,  
What Pleasures in the Floods appear;  
We'll beat the Waters till they bond,  
And Circle, round, around, around,  
And Circle round, around.  Arth. 
A Lazy Pleasure trickles through my Veins;  
Here could I stay, and well be Cozened here.  
But Honour calls; Is Honour in such haste?  
Can he not Bait at such a pleasing Inn?  
No; for the more I look, the more I long;  
Farewell, ye Fair Illusions, I must leave ye,  
While I have Power to say, that I must leave ye.  
Farewell, with half my Soul I stagger off;  
How dear this slying Victory has cost,  
When, if I stay to struggle, I am lost.  As he is going forward, Nymphs and Sylvans come cut from behind the Trees. Base and two Trebles sing the following Song to a Minuet. Dance with the Song, all with Branches in their Hands. 
Song. How happy the Lover,  
How easy his Chain,  
How pleasing his Pain?  
How sweet to discover!  
He sighs not in vain.  
For Love every Creature  
Is formed by his Nature;  
No Joys are above  
The Pleasures of Love.  The Dance continues with the same Measure played alone. 

2.  
In vain are our Graces,  
In vain are your Eyes,  
If Love you despise;  
When Age furrows Faces,  
'Tis time to be wise.  
Then use the short Blessing,  
That Flies in Possessing:  
No Joys are above  
The Pleasures of Love.   Arth. 
And what are these Fantastic Fairy Joys,  
To Love like mine? False Joys, false Welcomes all.  
Begun, ye Sylvan Trippers of the Green;  
Fly after Night, and overtake the Moon. Here the Dancers, Singers and Sirens vanish.  
This goodly Tree seems Queen of all the Grove.  
The Ringlets round her Trunk declare her guilty  
Of many Midnight-Sabbaths Revealed here.  
Her will I first attempt. Arthur strikes at the Tree, and cuts it; Blood spouts out of it, a Groan follows, than a Shriek.  
Good heavens, what Monstrous Prodigies are these!  
Blood follows from my blow; the wounded Rind  
Spouts on my Sword, and Sanguine dies the Plain.  He strtkes again: A Voice of Emmeline from behind. Em. from behind. 
Forbear, if thou hast Pity, ah, forbear!  
These Groans proceed not from a Senseless Plant,  
No Spouts of Blood run welling from a Tree.  Arth. 
Speak what thou art; I charge thee speak thy Being;  
Thou that hast made my curdled Blood run back,  
My Heart heave up; my Hair to rise in Bristles,  
And scarcely left a Voice to ask thy Name.  Emmeline breaks out of the Tree showing her Arm Bloody. Emm. 
Whom thou hast hurt, Unkind and Cruel see;  
Look on this Blood, 'tis fatal, still, to me  
To bear thy Wounds, my Heart has felt 'em first.  Arth. 
'Tis she; Amazement roots me to the Ground!  Emm. 
By cruel Charms, dragged from my peaceful Bower,  
Fierce Osmond clossed me in this bleeding Bark;  
And bid me stand exposed to the bleak Winds,  
And Winter Storms; and heavens Inclemency,  
Bound to the Fate of this Hell-haunted Grove;  
So that whatever Sword, or sounding Axe,  
Shall violate this Plant, must pierce my Flesh,  
And when that falls. I die.—  Arth. 
If this be true,  
O never, never, to be ended Charm,  
At least by me; yet all my be Illusion.  
Break up, ye thickening Fogs, and filmy Mists,  
All that belie my Sight, and cheat my Serse.  
For Reason still pronounces, 'tis not she,  
And thus resolved— Lifts up his Sword, is going to strike.  Emm. 
Do, strike Barbarian, strike;  
And strew my mangled Limbs, with every stroke  
Wound me, and double kill me, with Unkindness,  
That by thy Hand I sell.  Arth. 
What shall I do, ye Powers?  Emm. 
Lay down thy Vengeful Sword; 'tis fatal here:  
What need of Arms, where no Defence is made?  
A Lovesick Virgin, panting with Desire  
No Conscious Eye t'intrude on our Delights:  
For this thou hast the Syren's Songs despised;  
For this, thy Faithful Passion I Reward;  
Haste then, to take me longing to thy Arms.  Arth. 
O Love! O Merlin! Whom should I believe?  Emm. 
Believe thyself, thy Youth, thy Love, and me;  
They only, they, who please themselves are Wise:  
Disarm thy Hand, that mine may meet it bare.  Arth. 
By thy leave, Reason, here I throw thee off,  
Thou load of Life: If thou wert made for Souls,  
Then Souls should have been made without their Bodies.  
If, falling for the first Created Fair,  
Was Adam's Fault, great Grandsire I forgive thee,  
Eden was lost, as all thy Sons would lose it.  Going towards Emmeline, and pulling off his Gauntlet. Enter Philidel running. Phil. 
Hold, poor deluded Mortal, hold thy Hand;  
Which if thou giv'st, is plighted to a Fiend.  
For Proof, behold the Virtue of this Wand;  
Th' Infernal Paint shall vanish from her Face,  
And Hell shall stand Revealed.  Strikes Emmeline with a Wand, who strait descends: Philidel runs to the Descent, and pulls up Grimbald, and binds him. 
Now see to whose Embraces thou wert falling.  
Behold the Maiden Modesty of Grimbald,  
The grossest, earthiest, ugliest Fiend in Hell.  Arth. 
Horror seizes me,  
To think what Headlong Ruin I have tempted.  Phil. 
Haste to thy Work; a Noble stroke or two  
Ends all the Charms, and disenchants the Grove.  
I'll hold thy Mistress bound.  Arth. 
Then here's for Earnest;  Strikes twice or thrice, and the Tree falls, or sinks: A Peal of Thunder immediately follows, with dreadful Howl. 
'Tis sinished, and the Dusk that yet remains,  
Is but the Native Horror of the Wood  
But I must lose no time; the Pass is free;  
Th' unroosted Fiends have quitted this Abode;  
On you proud Towers, before the day be done,  
My glittering Banners shall be waved against the setting Sun.  Exit Arthur. Phil. 
Come on my surly Slave; come stalk along,  
And stamp a madman's pace, and drag thy Chain.  Grimb. 
I'll Champ and Foam upon it, till the blue Venom  
Work upward to thy Hands, and lose their hold.  Phil. 
knowst thou this powerful Wand; 'tis lifted up;  
A second stroke would send thee to the Centre,  
Benumbed and Dead, as far as Souls can Die.  Grim. 
I would thou wouldst, to rid me of my Sense:  
I shall be whooped through Hell at my return,  
Inglorious from the Mischief I designed.  Phil. 
And therefore since thou loathest Etherial Light,  
The Morning Sun shall beat on thy black Brows;  
The Breath thou drawest shall be of opper Air,  
Hostile to thee; and to thy Earthy make,  
So light, so thin, that thou shalt Starve, for want  
Of thy gross Food, till gasping thou shalt lie,  
And blow it back, all Sooty to the Sky.  exit Philidel, dragging Grimbald after him.  

ACT V.  Enter Osmond as affrighted. Osm. 
GRimbald made Prisoner, and my Grove destroyed!  
Now what can save me— Hark the Drums and Trumpets!  Drums and Trumpets within. 
Arthur is marching onward to the Fort,  
I have but one Recourse, and that's to Oswald;  
But will he Fight for me, whom I have injured?  
No, not for me, but for himself he must;  
I'll urge him with the last Necessity;  
Better give up my Mistress than my Life.  
His force is much unequal to his Rival;  
True;— But I'll help him with my utmost Art,  
And try t' unravel Fate.  Exit Osmond. Enter Arthur, Conon, Aurelius, Albanact, and Soldiers. Con. 
Now there remains but this one Labour more;  
And if we have the Hearts of true Born Britain's,  
The forcing of that Castle Crowns the Day.  Aurel. 
The Works are weak, the Garrison but thin,  
Dispirited with frequent Overthrows,  
Already wavering on their ill manned Walls.  Alban. 
They shift their places oft, and sculk from War,  
Sure Signs of pale Despair, and easy Rout;  
It shows they place their Confidence in Magic,  
And when their Devils fail, their Hearts are Dead.  Arth. 
Then, where you see'em clust'ring most, in Motion,  
And staggering in their Ranks, there press 'em home;  
For that 's a Coward heap— How's this, a Sally?  Enter Oswald, Guillamar, and Soldiers on the other side. 
Beyond my Hopes, to meet 'em on the square.  Osw. advancing. 
Brave Britain's hold; and thou their famous Chief  
Attend what Saxon Oswald will propose.  
He owns your Victory; but whether owing  
To Valour, or to Fortune, that he doubts.  
If Arthur dares ascribe it to the first,  
And singled from a Crowd, will tempt a Conquest,  
This Oswald Offers, let our Troops retire,  
And Hand to Hand, let us decide our Strife:  
This if Refused, bear Witness Earth and Heaven,  
Thou stealest a Crown and Mistress undeserved.  Arth. 
I'll not Usurp thy Title of a Robber,  
Nor will upbraid thee, that before I proffered  
This single Combat, which thou didst avoid;  
So glad I am, on any Terms to meet thee,  
And not discourage thy Repenting shame;  
As once Aeneas my Famed Ancestor,  
Betwixt the Trojan and Rutilian Bands,  
Fought for a Crown, and bright Lavinia's Bed,  
So will I meet thee, Hand to Hand opposed:  
My Auguring Mind, assures the same Success.  To his Men. 
Hence out of view; If I am Slain, or yield,  
Renounce me Britain's for a Recreant Knight,  
And let the Saxon peacefully enjoy  
His former footing in our famous Isle.  
To Ratify these Terms, I swear—  Osw. 
You need not;  
Your Honour is of Force, without your Oath.  
I only add, that if I fall, or yield,  
Yours be the Crown, and Emmeline.  Arth. 
That's two Crowns.  
No more; we keep the looking heavens and Sun  
Too long in Expectation of our Arms.  Both Armies go clear off the Stage. They Fight with Sponges in their Hands, dipped in Blood; after some equal Passes and Closeing, they appear both Wounded: Arthur Stumbles among the Trees, Oswald falls over him, they both Rise; Arthur Wounds him again, then Oswald Retreats. Enter Osmond from among the Trees, and with his Wand, strikes Arthur 's Sword out of his Hand, and Exit. Oswald pursues Arthur. Merlin enters, and gives Arthur his Sword, and Exit, they close, and Arthur in the fall, disarms Oswald. Arth. 
Confess thy  o'ercome, and ask thy Life.  Oswa. 
'Tis not worth ask, when 'tis in thy Power.  Arth. 
Then take it as my Gift.  Oswa. 
A wretched Gift.  
With loss of Empire, Liberty, and Love.  A Consort of Trumpets within, proclaiming Arthur 's Victory, while they Sound, Arthur and Oswal. seem to Confer. 
'Tis too much Bounty to a vanquished Foe;  
Yet not enough to make me Fortunate.  Arth. 
Thy Life, thy Liberty, thy Honour Safe,  
Led back thy Saxons to their Ancient Elb:  
I would Restore thee fruitful Kent, the Gift  
Of Vortigern for Hengist's ill bought aid,  
But that my Britain's brook no Foreign Power,  
To Lord it in a Land, Sacred to Freedom;  
And of its Rights, Tenacious to the last.  Osw. 
Nor more than thou hast offered would I take.  
I would Refuse all Britain, held in Homage;  
And own no other Masters but the Gods.  Enter on one side; Merlin, Emmeline, and Matilda. Conon, Aurelius, Albanact, with British Soldiers, bearing King Arthur 's Standard displayed. On the other side, Guillamar and Osinond, with Saxon Soldiers, dragging their Colours on the Ground. Art. going to Emm. and embracing her 
At length, at length, I have thee in my Arms,  
Tho' our Malevolent Stars have struggled hard,  
And held us long asunder▪  Emm. 
We are so fitted for each other Hearts,  
That Heaven had erred, in making of a third,  
To get betwixt, and intercept our Loves.  Osw. 
Were there but this, this only sight to see,  
The price of Britain should not buy my stay.  Merl. 
Take hence that Monster of Ingratitude,  
Him, who betrayed his Master, bear him hence,  
And in that loathsome Dungeon plunge him deep,  
Where he plunged Noble Oswald.  Osm. 
That indeed is fittest for me,  
For there I shall be near my Kindred Fiends,  
And spare my Grimbald's Pains to bear me to 'em. 〈◊〉 carried off.  Mer. to Arth. 
For this Days Palm, and for thy former Acts,  
Thy Britain freed, and Foreign Force expelled,  
Thou, Arthur, hast acquired a future Fame,  
And of three Christian Worthies, art the first:  
And now at once, to treat thy Sight and Soul,  
Behold what Rolling Ages shall produce:  
The Wealth, the Loves, the Glories of our Isle,  
Which yet like Golden Oar, Unripe in Beds,  
Expect the Warm Indulgency of Heaven  
To call 'em forth to Light—  To Osw. 
Nor thou, brave Saxon Prince, disdain our Triumphs;  
Britain's and Saxons shall be once one People;  
One Common Tongue, one Common Faith shall bind  
Our Jarring Bands, in a perpetual Peace.  Merlin waves his Wand; the Scene changes, and discovers the British Ocean in a Storm. Aeolus in a Cloud above: Four Winds hanging, etc. Aeolus. singing. 
Ye Blust'ring Brethren of the Skies,  
Whose Breath has ruffled all the Watery Plain,  
Retire, and let Britannia Rise,  
In Triumph o'er the Main.  
Serene and Calm, and void of fear,  
The Queen of Islands must appear:  
Serene and Calm, as when the Spring  
The New-Created World began,  
And Birds on Boughs did softly sing,  
Their Peaceful Homage paid to Man,  
While Eurus did his Blasts forbear,  
In favour of the Tender Year.  
Retreat, Rude Winds, Retreat,  
To Hollow Rocks, your Stormy Seat;  
There swell your Lungs, and vainly, vainly threat.  Aeolus ascends, and the four Winds fly off. The Scene opens, and discovers a calm Sea, to the end of the House. An Island arises, to a soft Tune; Britannia seated in the Island, with Fishermen at her Feet, etc. The Tune changes; the Fishermen come ashore, and Dance a while; After which, Pan and a Nereide come on the Stage, and sing. 

Pan and Nereide Sings.  
Round thy Coasts, Fair Nymph of Britain,  
For thy Guard our Waters flow:  
Proteus all his Herd admitting,  
On thy Greene's to Graze below.  
Foreign Lands thy Fishes Tasting,  
Learn from thee Luxurious Fasting.   

Song of three Parts.  
For Folded Flocks, on Fruitful Plains,  
The Shepherds and the Farmer's Gains,  
Fair Britain all the World outvyes;  
And Pan, as in Arcadia Reigns,  
Where Pleasure mixed with Profit lies.   

2.  
Though Jason's Office was Famed of old,  
The British Wool is growing Gold;  
No Mines can more of Wealth supply;  
It keeps the Peasant from the Cold,  
And takes for Kings the Tyrian die.   
The last Stanza sung over again betwixt Pan and the Nereide. After which the former Dance is varied, and goes on.  Enter Comus with three Peasants, who sing the following Song in Parts. Com. 
YOur Hay it is Mowed, & your Corn is Reaped;  
Your Barns will be full, and your hovel heaped;  
Come, my Boys, come;  
Come, my Boys, come;  
And merrily Roar out Harvest Home;  
Harvest Home,  
Harvest Home;  
And merrily Roar out Harvest Home.  Chorus. 
Come, my Boys, come, etc.  1 Man. 
We ha' cheated the Parson, we'll cheat him again;  
For why should a Blockhead ha' One in Ten?  
One in Ten,  
One in Ten.  
For why should a Blockhead ha' One in Ten?  Chorus. 
One in Ten,  
One in Ten;  
For why should a Blockhead ha' One in Ten?  2. 
For Prating so long like a Book-learned Sot,  
Till Pudding and Dumplin burn to Pot;  
Burn to Pot,  
Burn to Pot;  
Till Fudding and Dumplin burn to Pot.  Chorus. 
Burn to Pot, etc.  3. 
We'll toss off our Ale till we canno' stand,  
And Hoy for the Honour of Old England:  
Old England,  
Old England;  
And Hoy for the Honour of Old England.  Chorus. 
Old England, etc.  The Dance varied into a round Country-Dance. Enter Venus. Venus. 

Fairest Isle, all Isles Excelling,  
Seat of Pleasures, and of Loves;  
Venus here, will choose her Dwelling,  
And forsake her Cyprian Groves.   

2.  
Cupid, from his Favourite Nation,  
Care and Envy will Remove;  
Jealousy, that poison's Passion,  
And Despair that dies for Love.   

3.  
Gentle Murmurs, sweet Complaining,  
Sighs that blow the Fire of Love;  
Soft Repulses, kind Disdaining,  
Shall be all the Pains you prove.   

4.  
Every Swain shall pay his Duty,  
Grateful every Nymph shall prove;  
And as these Excel in Beauty,  
Those shall be Renowned for Love.     

SONG by Mr. HOWE..  She. 

1.  
YOu say, 'Tis Love Creates the Pain,  
Of which so sadly you Complain;  
And yet would fain Engage my Heart  
In that uneasy cruel part:  
But how, Alas! think you, that I,  
Can bear the Wound of which you die.   Herald 

2.  
'Tis not my Passion makes my Care,  
But your Indiff'rence gives Despair:  
The Lusty Sun begets no Spring,  
Till Gentle Showers Assistance bring:  
So Love that Scorches, and Destroys,  
Till Kindness Aids, can cause no Joys.   She. 

3.  
Love has a Thousand Ways to please,  
But more to rob us of our Ease:  
For Wakeful Nights, and Careful Days,  
Some Hours of Pleasure he repays;  
But Absence soon, or Jealous Fears,  
O'erflow the Joys with Floods of Tears.   Herald 

4.  
By vain and senseless Forms betrayed,  
Harmless Love's th' Offender made;  
While we no other Pains endure,  
Than those, that we ourselves procure:  
But one soft Moment makes Amends  
For all the Torment that attends.   

5. Chorus of Both.  
Let us love, let us love, and to Happiness haste;  
Age and Wisdom come too fast:  
Youth for Loving was designed.  
He alone. I'll be constant, you be kind.  
She alone. You be constant, I'll be kind.  
Both. Heaven can give no greater Blessing  
Than faithful Love, and kind Possessing.   After the Dialogue, a Warlike Consort: The Scene opens above, and discovers the Order of the Garter. Enter Honour, Attended by Hero's. Merl. 
These who last entered, are our Valiant Britain's,  
Who shall by Sea and Land Repel our Foes.  
Now look above, and in heavens High Abyss,  
Behold what Fame attends those future Hero's.  
Honour, who leads 'em to that Steepy Height,  
In her Immortal Song, shall tell the rest.  (Honour sings.) Hon. 

1.  
St. George, the Patron of our Isle,  
A Soldier, and a Saint,  
On that Auspicious Order smile,  
Which Love and Arms will plant.   

2.  
Our Natives not alone appear  
To Court this Martial Prize;  
But Foreign Kings, Adopted here,  
Their Crowns at Home despise.   

3.  
Our Sovereign High, in Awful State,  
His Honours shall bestow;  
And see his Sceptred Subjects wait  
On his Commands below.   A full Chorus of the whole Song: After which the Grand Dance. Arth. to Merl. 
Wisely you have, whate'er will please, revealed,  
What would displease, as wisely have concealed:  
Triumphs of War and Peace, at full ye show,  
But swiftly turn the Pages of our Wo.  
Rest we contented with our present State;  
'Tis Anxious to inquire of future Fate.  
That Race of Hero's is enough alone  
For all unseen Disasters to atone.  
Let us make haste betimes to Reap our share,  
And not Resign them all the Praise of War.  
But set th' Example; and their Souls Inflame,  
To Copy out their Great Forefathers Fame.  
FINIS.