What is the Roseline, or Rose Line according to several authors? Philippe de Chérisey a surrealist help create a hoax that made Dan Brown rich. I believed this linage of Jesus and Mary Magdalene was a hoax but could not ignore my grandmother’s name:
Mary Magdalene Rosamond
Then there is Mary’s four beautiful daughters, and Christine Rosamond, a world famous female artist. If this alleged Rose Line is associated with the famous artist Leonardo Da Vinci, why not apply these two words to a famous artist – surrounded by Rose Names?
Rose Line is a fictional name given to the Paris Meridian and to the sunlight line defining the exact time of Easter on the Gnomon of Saint-Sulpice, marked by a brass strip on the floor of the church, where the two are conflated, by Dan Brown in his 2003 novel The Da Vinci Code.[1] Brown based this on material found in the Priory of Sion documents of the 1960s, where neither the Zero Meridian or the sunlight line in St Sulpice are called Rose Line.
Philippe de Cherisey in his 1967 novel Circuit claimed his girlfriend “Roseline” (Roseline Cartades, described as “A Machiavellian Virgin”) was killed in a car crash and was buried in a beautiful tomb by the Zero Meridian.[2] The Zero Meridian was not called “Roseline” in Circuit, nor was it called that in the 1967 Priory of Sion document Le Serpent Rouge, that deals with the Zero Meridian being conflated with the sunlight line in St Sulpice.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rose_Line
I am a real master cryptologist and symbolist. It is said Dan Brown eavesdropped on the yahoogroups I belonged to where I unveiled my Rose Line – my family! In April of 1996 I filed a letter in the Probate of my sister, the Artist – Christine Rosamond – the granddaughter of Mary Magdalene! I was mocked! I threatened to turn my study into a Historic Romance after ‘Pharamond’ by de Costes de la Calprenede. I was insulted and banned out of fear my approach was the only one that was real. My daughter and her family deserted me in order to be in the rival biography about my late sister – that they could not give away.
Joseph Addison dedicate his opera ‘Rosamond’ to the Duchess of Marlborough – the ancestor of Princess Diana ‘The English Rose’. Sarah owned Blenheim Palace where Rosamond’s Labyrinth was built. Belle is of the Labyrinth. I found her in Ken Kesey Square while a troubadour sang, Saint Stephen’s Rose. I went in search of her. Whatever stratagem she owned after our meeting, is Null & Void. She has been trumped by a Rose Master descend from the Swan Brethren.
http://www.bartleby.com/27/14.html
I own the greatest Historic Romance ever written, starring Belle Burch who asks after my name, AMBROSE, which is forbidden, it lying all but dead in the catycombs of the Superior Court of Monterey. For eight years, I waited for someone to free me – and the truth! I languished in rags down in a dank basement, while this pretender takes his banker to lunch! Enough! These games are at an end! I own all the right symbols in this chess game – and beauty is on my side! She has no choice! Catherine Van Der Turin is %100 percent behind my story – from beyond the grave! Did Belle’s mother and father read ‘The Da Vinci Code’?
“The Da Vinci Code is a 2003 mystery–detective novel by Dan Brown. It follows symbologist Robert Langdon and cryptologist Sophie Neveu after a murder in the Louvre Museum in Paris, when they become involved in a battle between the Priory of Sion and Opus Dei over the possibility of Jesus Christ having been married to Mary Magdalene.
https://rosamondpress.com/2015/07/29/the-maze-and-grail-at-blenheim-palace-2/
Rosamond and Female Line begot Franks
The male line from Pharamond to Merovee is traced from
Rosamond/Argotta and her daughters. Rosamond was an heiress, the
daughter of the Frankish King, Genobald. That the heiress, Jeanne de
Rougemont, one of four daughters of Ulrich de Rougemont, begot the
Habsburgs, and from Rougemont comes the name Rosamond, is profound,
as Jesus’ mother has been titled the ‘Rose of the World’. Some
authors claim the Habsburgs descend from Jesus’s brother,
James/Jacob the Nazarite, who I claim were a ‘race of prophets’.
This puts the name Rosamond at the apex of the Grail Rose Line.
“note: the first three Frankish kings, Faramond, Chlodio, and
Merovee, were NOT father, son, & grandson, as they appear in
traditional genealogies, but rather each came from different
families, and are connected by marriages and/or female-links. the
Salic Law was not introduced until the time of Clovis I “The Great”,
from whom all succeeding Merovingian kings sprang. the traditional
genealogy of his descendants, the Merovingians, should be re-edited
to show that Thibert I, King East Franks 534-548, & Thibaut, King
East Franks 548-555, were NOT father and son, but brothers. too,
another side-bar, Caribert II, King West Franks 629, was father of
Chilperic (d632), father of Childebrand, father of a son, Clodulphe,
Duke of Austrasia (d718), &, a dau, Chalpaida, 3rd wife of Pepin II,
Major Domo of France.
Let the opera begin! We have reached the point of no return! Time to Tango! Time to get published!
Awake Fair Rosamond, my Sleeping Beauty – awake and greet your destiny!
In such an endless Maze I rove,
Lost in Labyrinths of Love,
My Breast with hoarded Vengeance burns,
While Fear and Rage
With Hope engage,
And rule my wav’ring Soul by turns.
O Rosamond, behold too late
And tremble at thy future Fate!
Curse this unhappy, guilty Face,
Every Charm, and every Grace,
That to thy Ruin made their way,
And led thine Innocence astray:
Beneath some hoary Mountain
I’ll lay me down and weep,
Or near some warbling Fountain
Bewail my self asleep,
Where feather’d Quires combining
With gentle murm’ring Streams,
And Winds in Consort joining,
Raise sadly-pleasing Dreams.
Jon Presco
Don Juan
Copyright 2016
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarah_Churchill,_Duchess_of_Marlborough
http://artsites.ucsc.edu/GDead/agdl/stephen.html
Saint Stephen with a rose
In and out of the garden he goes
Country garland in the wind and the rain
Wherever he goes the people all complain
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Langdon
https://archive.org/details/rosamondanopera00addigoog
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Blenheim
He returned to England at the end of 1703. For more than a year he remained without employment, but the Battle of Blenheim in 1704 gave him a fresh opportunity of distinguishing himself. The government, more specifically Lord Treasurer Godolphin, commissioned Addison to write a commemorative poem, and he produced The Campaign, which gave such satisfaction that he was forthwith appointed a Commissioner of Appeals in Halifax’s government.[2] His next literary venture was an account of his travels in Italy, which was followed by an opera libretto titled Rosamund.
https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/RENNES-LE-HOAX/info
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DANGEROSE, is Queen Eleanore of Aquitaine’s mother. Her great grandmother is
surnamed ROCHEFOUCAULD after FOUCAULD DE LA ROCHE (Sire De La Roche) also
spelled DE LA ROSA, as ROCH is ROZ and ROSE. Diana’s mother is FRANCIS
ROCHE, descended from SIR JOHN DE LA ROCHE. I suspect Queen Eleanore is the
SERPENT DE LA ROUGE. BARONESS DE ROS-FITZGERALD is kin to Diana, there a
mutliated statue of a Knight Templar at the family chapel built at ROSLYN.
This is WILLIAM DE ROS. A DE ROS married a SINCLAIR. Princess Isabel of
Scotland, and Queen of Jerusalem, married ROBERT DE ROS. Another Robert
marries another Isabela of ALBINI. ELIZABETH DE ROS married LEWIS CLIFFORD
(Sir Knight of the Garter. The ROSAMOND name and ancestry hover around this
ROCH and ROSE. Is it any wonder Princess Di was called DE LA ROSE DE ALBION
(England)
Many of the Queens of England adobted Rose badeges. The ROCHE family crest
consists of three fish, and represents a ROSE, ROCK, and RAVEN.
ROTHCHILD is ‘RED SHIELD’. Consider, ROCHESHIELD, ROCHECHILD, ROCKAFELLA,
and, DE LA ROSECHILD DE ALBION.
Has anyone posted anything on the Kingdom of GOTHA, a plan to Unite all of
Europe in the 1800’s? If Di’s lover was descended from the Ptolomy family,
then this would be a great threat, as the Windsors have no blood ties to
them as they claim – and this is so very key! Here are some links to these
names:
http://members.home.net/jfroache/addR.html
http://pages.prodigy.net/ptheroff/gotha/rochefoucauld.html
The Unicorn of the British Royal Arms, is armed with King Arthur’s Sword,
the one he drew from the Obelisk Stone, and is the white, spiral horn of the
Narwhale, the same horn/sword that come out of the white haired,
goat-bearded, Angel’s mouth in Revelations 12:16. And with a voice like a
trumpet/horn, he says, “I am Alpha and Omega.”
He is Attis, the Zenith of Obelisk and Five Season Solar Year of the
Boilbel-Loth Alphabet. He is Dionysus Sabius the original (Alpha) Jehovah of
the Passover. He is Baal, Bel, and Helios, the Sun God. He has arisen from
the Four Sacred Halls to the top of the obelisk, climbing the spiral
staircase within (ladder of Jacob) to the Crown of the Sun. The horn is
centered in the Dog-days, and is a symbol of power:
“I will exalt your horn.”
The Four Halls make up the base of the Obelisk and is the Swastika, the
prime symbol in Minoan Crete. Either alone, or enclosed in a circle, it was
reserved for the Moon Goddess and her Royal Son, the King. The arms of the
Swastika are four sevens, equaling twenty eight, the number of days in the
months (moons) of the five season year. Osiris, Horus, Isis, Set and Nepthys
make up this sacred hall and its zenith. In the worship of Kali, they are
Siva, Kali. Vishnu, Surya, and Ganesa. In the coronation of an Indian king,
he is invested with a sacred mantle called
‘The Womb’. In this ceremony of rebirth, he is given five dice, the priest
saying; “Thou art master; may these five regions fall to thy lot.” The five
regions are the four quarters of the earth and the zentih.
Consider the construction of a Jousting tent, like the one young Arthur
entered to look for Kay’s sword. One does not rule by braun alone. Surely
Merlin taught his charge the secrets of the Kabala.
The two mysterious orders of the Essenes, the Sampsonians and the Helicaens,
were adepts in the calnedar mysteries and were named after Samson “like the
sun” the sun-hero, and the the Helix, or cosmic circle. An Essene who wished
to meditate, would insulate himself from the world by drawing a circle
around himself in the sand. Jesus does this while meditating in the
wilderness, and before he is ready to judge the men stoning the harlot to
death. Samson the Nazarite, was the first Judge of Israel. Samuel the
Nazarite, was the first to annoint a King of the Jews “He has risen!” the
A-lpha, to the Z-eneth!
Jon Presco
“Christine worked almost exclusively from photographs and
figures she cut from magazines like Vanity Fair and Vogue and
Glamour,” Garth recalls. “That’s why the women in her middle period
were so exquisite – the inspiration for them came from elegant
magazines that set the standard.”
https://rosamondpress.com/2013/02/24/forgiving-lillian-rosamond-molnar/
[This rendering is perhaps preferable to that of Stowe (“Annals,” 1631), which
In any case the epitaph must be accounted a libel in one respect, for Leland, the Antiquary to Henry VIII, records that, on the opening of Rosamond’s tomb, at the dissolution of Godstowe nunnery, the bones were found to be encased in leather, surrounded by lead, and that “a very swete smell came out of it.”
Of a widely different nature was the version published in 1729 by Samuel Croxall in his “Select Collection of Novels,” Vol. IV. “The Loves of King Henry II and Fair Rosamond.” Here the attitude assumed is one of learned contempt for popular credulity. “What have we in this Story,” says Croxall, “but a Copy of Ariadne’s Clue and the Cretan Labyrinth?
http://www.sacred-texts.com/etc/ml/ml22.htm
http://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/ecco/004772238.0001.000/1:4?rgn=div1;view=fulltext
By the early 1960s Philippe de Chérisey met Pierre Plantard, and together they developed an interest in Rennes-le-Château. From the mid-1950s local hotelier Noël Corbu circulated a story to boost trade, that the 19th century priest Bérenger Saunière of Rennes-le-Château had discovered the treasure of Blanche of Castile. The author Robert Charroux published Corbu’s story in his 1962 book Trésors du Monde.[2] In a letter dated 2 April 1965 to his girlfriend, de Chérisey wrote: “Don’t tell anyone, but I’ll be setting out again for four days in the Pyrenees with Plantard to see if we can get any closer to Mary Magdalene.”[3] A mixture of de Chérisey’s humor and surrealism can be identified within his activities relating to the Priory of Sion hoax, Gisors and Rennes-le-Château, contained in his correspondence as well as in his documents that he deposited in the Bibliothèque nationale de France in Paris.
Parchments[edit]
During the early 1960s de Chérisey forged two parchments, photocopies of which appeared in the 1967 book L’Or de Rennes by Gérard de Sède.[4] De Sède’s book adapted Corbu’s story to fit-in with Plantard’s claims about the Priory of Sion. The parchments hinted at the survival of the line of the Frankish king Dagobert II, that Plantard claimed to be descended from, as well as attempting to verify the existence of the 1000-year-old secret society, the Priory of Sion. The two “parchments” were later used as source material for the 1982 book The Holy Blood and the Holy Grail, which was itself used as a primary source for the 2003 bestselling novel The Da Vinci Code. Other documents, containing fake genealogies, were planted in the French National Library, the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris throughout the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s.
Pierre Plantard and Gérard de Sède fell out over book royalties when L’Or de Rennes was published in 1967, at the same time Philippe de Chérisey announced that he had forged the “parchments”. De Chérisey elaborated about this in his 1978 unpublished document L’Énigme de Rennes, claiming they were originally made for his friend Francis Blanche, as material for a French radio serial entitled Signé Furax.[5] A second document by de Chérisey entitled Pierre et papier (“Stone and Paper”) provides a more detailed explanation, giving the more complicated decoding technique to one of the “parchments” by using a Knight’s Tour 25-letter alphabet, omitting the letter “w”, the knowledge of which can only be
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philippe_de_Ch%C3%A9risey
“That which I was obliged to tell you of the beauty of Rosamond, in
recounting to you what fashion she appeared to the eyes of my master,
hindered me from extending something upon that of Albisinda: but I
may tell you with truth, that if Rosamond were not in the world,
perhaps there would be nothing more beautiful then that Princess; and
that next to Rosamond, she has those particular charms, which nothing
can withstand: she has without doubt has less splendor and Majesty
than the Princess of the Cimbrians.”
http://www.geocities.com/prosemont/Pha_Ros.html
In 1677 de Costes de la Calprenede is said to have written the first
historic romance novel when 1668 he compiled the history of the
Merovingian Frankish Kings in his monumental work ‘Pharamond’. Within
we have an account of Pharamond’s love for Rosemonde, the Cambrian
princess whose tribe, the Cimri, are mentioned in the Bible, they
associated with the Royal Scythians and the people of the ‘Prince of
Rosh’ that Ezekiel prophecised against in chaper 38. They are the
horseman of the Russian Steppes who would form the Celtic peoples
when they moved west. The ancestors of the Merovingians are kin to
the Cimri, who they chased into Asia, all the way to Ceylon India.
The union of Pharmond and Rosamonde will create the Sicambrian
Franks. Gardener says this union brought together to Grail
Bloodlines.
Gauthier dedicated ‘Pharamond’ to the Dutchess of Albemarle who
marired Christopher Monck, the son of George Monck the Duke of
Albemarle. Albemarle is the orignal name of the city of Charelston
which was a city founded by the The Lords Proprietors. George Monck
was instrumental in restoring the Stuarts to the throne.
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https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarah_Churchill,_Duchess_of_Marlborough
John Churchill died at Windsor in 1722, and Sarah arranged a large funeral for him.[71] Their daughter, Henrietta, became duchess in her own right. Sarah became one of the trustees of the Marlborough estate, and she used her business sense to distribute the family fortune, including the income for her daughter Henrietta.[72]
Sarah died, in the words of Tobias Smollett, “immensely rich and very little regretted, either by her own family or the world in general”,[86] but her efforts to continue the Marlborough legacy cannot be ignored. Because of her influence, Sarah managed to marry off members of her family to England’s greatest aristocratic dynasties. Among the more famous descendants of the Marlboroughs are Winston Churchill[a] and Diana, Princess of Wales.[b]
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarah_Churchill,_Duchess_of_Marlborough
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Joseph Addison’s mediocre opera of 1707, Eleanor considerately uses a sleeping potion, not poison, so that Rosamond can be dispatched to the nunnery without a fuss and Henry and Eleanor can be reconciled. It was a failure, needless to say. The theater-going public wants blood and excessive displays of passion or they won’t show up. It was also around this time that Woodstock disappeared. The Duke and Duchess of Marlborough tore it down in 1704 to build their new palace; apparently the Duchess was not a sentimentalist and Blenheim Palace now sits on the spot. For the rest of the 18th century, the story was neglected, though a few narrow-minded moralists used it to attack licentiousness. The Lost Symbol[edit]In The Lost Symbol, Robert Langdon has an adventure with the concepts of Freemasonry in Washington D.C. Tricked into visiting the nation’s Capitol, Robert Langdon spends twelve hours racing through the monuments and buildings of the USA’s forefathers, searching for the truth about the secret society of the Masons. Behind new doors lie secrets that promise to change the way people view science and politics, now threatened by Zachary Solomon, the renegade, estranged son of Robert Langdon’s friend, Peter Solomon, who has himself been kidnapped by Zachary, now going by the name Mal’akh. Robert Langdon is the last line of defense. With help from Katherine Solomon (Peter’s younger sister), Warren Bellamy (the Architect of the Capitol) and Inoue Sato (the director of the CIA). Date: Thu, 04 Jan 2001 16:59:12 -0000 In reading ‘The White Goddess’ I began to understand the God we don’t It is also apparent, those who made these word discoveries were just Latin then went through a counter-word anti-revolutionary alteration, The ‘Enthroned Man’ appears to be the key to the word-puzzle, he the “I am suggesting, in fact, that the religious revolution which “The ‘Enthroned Man’ is not God, as might be supposed: God lets Here again is the horn of the narwhale as a beam of cone shaped light Jon OriginalArrivalTime: 12 Feb 2001 21:36:46.0465 (UTC) FILETIME=[E63B9F10:01C0953B] You are speaking of the Morrow family who I believe is also the “When the Crusaders invaded the Holy Land, built castles and settled down, As well he should, as this cult begat the legend of Robin Hood, who My late mother, Rosemary, and my late sister, Christine – and myself, were Jon Presco Date: Mon, 25 Dec 2000 17:58:29 -0000 The ‘Red Dragon’ in Revelations 12 is El the Sea Serpent, Sea-beast, “Thou shalt have no other gods before me. Thou shalt not make unto “If I have told you of earthly things, and ye not believe not, how Did Jesus, a Nazarite devotee of John the Baptist, prepare the way This tenth Commandment has been tampered with, it written after the “I God El am a jealous God! Thou shalt not make for thy selves any Take the word NEHUSHTAN, contract it, and you get the name NETHAN, Have a blessed day, knowing God’s protection is with you! Jon Presco Copyright 2000 Date: Sun, 21 Jan 2001 17:42:15 -0000 The symbol on the ephod could have been a swastika (seraph) within a I will keep doing this formula, no matter how many times it is Robert Graves suggests the ‘Berserks’ also ingested ‘Ambrosia’ the I have posted the autobiography of my late sister, the Jon Presco Copyright 2001 http://members.nbci.com/velchanos/Bonds%20with%20Angels.htm I direct you to the bottom of the page ‘Bonds with Angels’ to read ACT I. SCENE I.A Prospect of Woodstock-Park, termina|ting in the Bower. Enter Queen and Page. Queen. WHAT Place is here! What Scenes appear! Where-e’er I turn my Eyes, All around Enchanted Ground And soft Elysiums rise: Flow’ry Mountains, Mossie Fountains, Shady Woods, Chrystal Floods With wild Variety surprize. As o’er the hollow Vaults we walk, A hundred Eccho’s round us talk: From Hill to Hill our Words are tost, Rocks rebounding, Caves resounding, Alluding to the famous Eccho. Not a single Voice is lost. Page. There gentle Rosamond immur’d Lives from the World and you secur’d. Queen. Curse on the Name! I faint, I die, With secret Pangs of Jealousie.— [Aside. Page. There does the pensive Beauty mourn, And languish for her Lord’s Return. Queen. Death and Confusion! I’m too slow— [Aside. Show me the happy Mansion, show.— Page. Great Henry there— Queen. Trifler, no more!— Page. —Great Henry there Will soon forget the Toils of War. Queen. No more! the happy Mansion show That holds this lovely, guilty Foe. My Wrath, like that of Heav’n, shall rise, And blast her in her Paradise. Page. Behold on yonder rising Ground The Bow’r that wanders In Meanders, Ever bending, Never ending, Page 3Glades on Glades, Shades in Shades, Running an Eternal Round. Queen. In such an endless Maze I rove, Lost in Labyrinths of Love, My Breast with hoarded Vengeance burns, While Fear and Rage With Hope engage, And rule my wav’ring Soul by turns. Page. The Path you verdant Field divides Which to the soft Confinement guides. Queen. Eleonora, think betimes, What are thy hated Rival’s Crimes! Whither, ah whither dost thou go! What has she done to move thee so! —Does she not warm with guilty Fires The faithless Lord of my Desires? Have not her fatal Arts remov’d My Henry from my Arms? ‘Tis her Crime to be lov’d, ‘Tis her Crime to have Charms. Let us fly, let us fly, She shall die, she shall die. I feel, I feel my Heart relent, How could the Fair be innocent! To a Monarch like mine, Who would not resign! Page 4One so great and so brave All Hearts must enslave. Page. Hark, hark! what Sound invades my Ear? The Conqueror’s Approach I hear. He comes, Victorious Henry comes! Hautboys, Trumpets, Fifes and Drums, In dreadful Consort join’d, Send from afar A Sound of War, And fill with Horror ev’ry Wind. Queen. Henry returns, from Danger free, Henry returns!—But not to me. He comes his Rosamond to greet, And lay his Laurels at her Feet, His Vows impatient to renew; His Vows to Eleonora due. Here shall the happy Nymph detain, (While of his Absence I complain) Hid in her mazy wanton Bow’r, My Lord, my Life, my Conqueror. No, no, ’tis decreed The Traitress shall bleed; No Fear shall alarm, No Pity disarm; In my Rage shall be seen The Revenge of a Queen. SCENE II.The Entry of the Bower. Sir Trusty, Knight of the Bower, solus. How unhappy is he, That is ty’d to a she, And fam’d for his Wit and his Beauty! For of us pretty Fellows Our Wives are so Jealous, They ne’er have enough of our Duty. But hah! my Limbs begin to quiver, I glow, I burn, I freeze, I shiver; Whence rises this convulsive Strife? I smell a Shrew! My Fears are true, I see my Wife. Enter Grideline, Wife to Sir Trusty. Grid. Faithless Varlet, art thou there? Sir Tr. My Love, my Dove, my Charming Fair! Grid. Monster, thy wheedling Tricks I know. Sir Tr. Why wilt thou call thy Turtle so? Grid. Cheat not me with false Caresses. Sir Tr. Let me stop thy Mouth with Kisses. Grid. Those to Fair Rosamond are due. Sir Tr. She is not half so Fair as you. Grid. She views thee with a Lover’s Eye. Sir Tr. I’ll still be thine, and let her die. Grid. No, no, ’tis plain. Thy Frauds I see, Traitor to thy King and me! Sir Tr. O Grideline! consult thy Glass, Behold that sweet bewitching Face, Those blooming Cheeks, that lovely Hue! Ev’ry Feature (Charming Creature) Will convince you I am true. Grid. O how blest were Grideline, Could I call Sir Trusty mine! Did he not cover amorous Wiles With soft, but ah! deceiving Smiles: How should I Revel in Delight, The Spouse of such a Peerless Knight! Sir Tr. At length the Storm begins to cease, I’ve sooth’d and flatter’d her to Peace. ‘Tis now my Turn to Tyranize, [Aside. I feel, I feel my Fury rise! Tigress, be gone. Grid. —I love thee so I cannot go. Sir Tr. Fly from my Passion, Beldame, fly! Grid. Why so unkind, Sir Trusty, why? Sir Tr. Thou’rt the Plague of my Life. Grid. I’m a foolish, fond Wife. Sir Tr. Let us part, Let us part. Grid. Will you break my poor Heart? Will you break my poor Heart? Sir Tr. I will if I can. Grid. O barbarous Man! From whence doth all this Passion flow? Sir Tr. Thou art ugly and old, And a villainous Scold. Grid. Thou art a Rustick to call me so. I’m not ugly nor old, Nor a villainous Scold, But thou art a Rustick to call me so. Thou, Traitor, adieu! Sir Tr. Farewel, thou Shrew! Grid. Thou Traitor, Sir Tr. Thou Shrew, Both. Adieu! adieu! [Exit Grid. Sir Trusty solus. How hard is our Fate Who serve in the State, And should lay out our Cares On Publick Affairs; Page 8When conjugal Toils And Family Broils Make all our great Labours miscarry! Yet this is the Lot Of him that has got Fair Rosamond’s Bow’r, With the Clew in his Pow’r, And is Courted by all, Both the great and the small, As principal Pimp to the mighty King Harry. But see, the pensive Fair draws near! I’ll at a Distance stand and hear. Enter Rosamond. From Walk to Walk, from Shade to Shade, From Stream to purling Stream convey’d, Through all the Mazes of the Grove, Through all the mingling Tracks I rove, Turning, Burning, Changing, Ranging, Full of Grief and full of Love. Impatient for my Lord’s Return I sigh, I pine, I rave, I mourn. Was ever Passion cross’d like mine? To rend my Breast, And break my Rest, A thousand thousand Ills combine. Absence wounds me, Fear surrounds me, Guilt confounds me, Was ever Passion cross’d like mine? Sir Tr. What Heart of Stone Can hear her moan, And not in Dumps so doleful join! [Apart. Ros. How does my constant Grief deface The Pleasures of this happy Place! In vain the Spring my Senses greets In all her Colours, all her Sweets; To me the Rose No longer glows, Every Plant Has lost its Scent: The vernal Blooms of various Hue, The Blossoms fresh with Morning Dew, The Breeze, that sweeps these fragrant Bow’rs, Fill’d with the Breath of Op’ning Flow’rs, Purple Scenes, Winding Greens, Glooms inviting, Birds delighting, (Nature’s softest, sweetest Store) Charm my tortur’d Soul no more. Ye Pow’rs I rave, I faint, I die; Why so slow! great Henry, why! From Death and Alarms Fly, fly to my Arms, Fly to my Arms, my Monarch, fly! Sir Tr. How much more bless’d wou’d Lovers be, Did all the whining Fools agree To live like Grideline and me! Ros. O Rosamond, behold too late And tremble at thy future Fate! Curse this unhappy, guilty Face, Every Charm, and every Grace, That to thy Ruin made their way, And led thine Innocence astray: At home thou seest thy Queen enrag’d, Abroad thy absent Lord engag’d In Wars, that may our Loves disjoin, And end at once his Life and mine. Sir Tr. Such cold Complaints befit a Nun: If she turns honest I’m undone! Ros. Beneath some hoary Mountain I’ll lay me down and weep, Or near some warbling Fountain Bewail my self asleep, Where feather’d Quires combining With gentle murm’ring Streams, And Winds in Consort joining, Raise sadly-pleasing Dreams. [Exit Ros. Page 11Sir Trusty solus. What savage Tiger would not pity A Damsel so distress’d and pretty! But hah! a Sound my Bow’r invades, Trumpets flourish. And eccho’s through the winding Shades; ‘Tis Henry’s March! the Tune I know: A Messenger! It must be so. Enter a Messenger. Mess. Great Henry comes! with Love opprest; Prepare to lodge the Royal Guest. From purple Fields with Slaughter spread, From Rivers choak’d with Heaps of Dead, From glorious and immortal Toils, Loaden with Honour, rich with Spoils, Great Henry comes! Prepare thy Bow’r To lodge the mighty Conquerour. Sir Tr. The Bow’r and Lady both are drest, And ready to receive their Guest. Mess. Hither the Victor flies (his Queen And Royal Progeny unseen) Soon as the British Shores he reach’d, Hither his foaming Courser strech’d: And see! his eager Steps prevent The Message that himself hath sent! Sir Tr. Here will I stand With Hat in Hand Obsequiously to meet him, And must endeavour At Behaviour That’s suitable to greet him. Enter King Henry after a Flourish of Trumpets. King. Where is my Love! my Rosamond! Sir Tr. First, as in strictest Duty bound, I kiss your Royal Hand, King. Where is my Life! my Rosamond! Sir Tr. Next with Submission most profound, I welcome you to Land. King. Where is the Tender, Charming Fair! Sir Tr. Let me appear, Great Sir, I pray Methodical in what I say. King. Where is my Love! O tell me where! Sir Tr. For when we have a Prince’s Ear, We should have Wit To know what’s fit For us to speak, and him to hear. King. These dull Delays I cannot bear, Where is my Love, O tell me where! Sir Tr. I speak, Great Sir, with weeping Eyes, She raves, alas! she faints, she dies. King. What dost thou say? my Heart’s alarm’d! Sir Tr. Be not, my Liege, too quickly warm’d: Page 13She raves, and faints, and dies, ’tis true; But raves, and faints, and dies for you. King. Was ever Nymph like Rosamond, So fair, so faithful, and so fond, Adorn’d with ev’ry Charm and Grace! My Heart’s on Fire With strong Desire, And leaps and springs to her Embrace. Sir Tr. At the Sight of her Lover She’ll quickly recover. What Place will you chuse For first Interviews? King. Full in the Center of the Grove In you Pavilion made for Love, Where Woodbines, Roses, Jessamines, Amaranths, and Eglantines, With intermingling Sweets have wove The particolour’d gay Alcove. Sir Tr. Your Highness, Sir, as I presume, Has chose the most convenient Gloom; There’s not a Place in all the Park Has Trees so thick, and Shades so dark. King. Mean while with due Attention wait To guard the Bow’r, and watch the Gate; Let neither Envy, Grief, nor Fear, Nor Love-sick Jealousie appear, Nor senseless Pomp nor Noise intrude On this Delicious Solitude, But Pleasure reign through all the Grove, And all be Peace, and all be Love. O the pleasing, pleasing Anguish When we Love, and when we Languish! Wishes rising! Thought surprizing! Pleasure courting! Charms transporting! Fancy viewing Joys ensuing! O the pleasing, pleasing Anguish! ACT II. SCENE I.A Pavilion in the Middle of the Bower. King and Rosamond. King. THus let my weary Soul forget Restless Glory, Martial Strife, Anxious Pleasures of the Great, And gilded Cares of Life. Ros. Thus let me lose, in rising Joys, Fierce Impatience, fond Desires, Painful Absence that destroys, And Life-consuming Fires. King. Not the loud British Shout that warms The Warrior’s Heart, nor clashing Arms, Nor Fields with hostile Banners strow’d, Nor Life on prostrate Gauls bestow’d, Give half the Joys that fill my Breast, While with my Rosamond I’m blest. Ros. My Henry is my Soul’s Delight, My Wish by Day, my Dream by Night. ‘Tis not in Language to impart The secret Meltings of my Heart, While I my Conqueror survey, And look my very Soul away. King. O may the present Bliss endure From Fortune, Time, and Death secure! Both. O may the present Bliss endure! King. My Eye cou’d ever gaze, my Ear Those gentle Sounds cou’d ever hear. But oh! with Noon-day Heats oppress’d, My aking Temples call for Rest! In yon cool Grotto’s artful Night Refreshing Slumbers I’ll invite, Then seek again my absent Fair, With all the Love a Heart can bear. [Exit King. Rosamond sola. From whence this sad presaging Fear, This sudden Sigh, this falling Tear? Page 16Oft in my silent Dreams by Night With such a Look I’ve seen him fly, Wafted by Angels to the Sky, And lost in endless Tracks of Light; While I abandon’d and forlorn, To dark and dismal Desarts born, Through lonely Wilds have seem’d to stray, A long, uncomfortable Way. They’re Fantoms all, I’ll think no more; My Life has endless Joys in store. Farewel Sorrow, farewel Fear, They’re Fantoms all! my Henry’s here. SCENE changes to the Pavilion as before. Rosamond sola. Transporting Pleasure! who can tell it! When our longing Eyes discover The kind, the dear approaching Lover, Who can hide, or who reveal it! A sudden Motion shakes the Grove: I hear the Steps of him I Love; Prepare, my Soul, to meet thy Bliss! —Death to my Eyes! what Sight is this! The Queen, th’ offended Queen I see! —Open, O Earth! and swallow me! Enter the Queen with a Bowl in one Hand, and a Dag|ger in the other. Queen. Thus arm’d with double Death I come: Behold, vain Wretch, behold thy Doom! Thy Crimes to their full Period tend, And soon by This or This shall end. Ros. What shall I say, or how reply To Threats of injur’d Majesty? Queen. ‘Tis Guilt that does thy Tongue controul. Or quickly drain the fatal Bowl, Or this right Hand performs its part, And plants a Dagger in thy Heart. Ros. Can Britain’s Queen give such Commands, Or dip in Blood those sacred Hands? In Her shall such Revenge be seen? Far be that from Britain’s Queen! Queen. How black does my Design appear? Was ever Mercy so severe! [Aside. Ros. When Tides of youthful Blood run high, And Scenes of promis’d Joys are nigh, Health presuming, Beauty blooming, Oh how dreadful ’tis to die! Queen. To those whom foul Dishonours stain, Life it self should be a Pain. Ros. Who could resist great Henry’s Charms, And drive the Heroe from her Arms? Think on the soft, the tender Fires, Melting Thoughts and gay Desires, That in your own warm Bosom rise, When languishing with Love-sick Eyes That great, that charming Man you see: Think on your self, and pity me! Queen. And dost thou thus thy Guilt deplore! [Offering the Dagger to her Breast. Presumptuous Woman! plead no more! Ros. O Queen your lifted Arm restrain! Behold these Tears!— Queen. —They flow in vain. Ros. Look with Compassion on my Fate! O hear my Sighs!— Queen. —They rise too late: Hope not a Day’s, an Hour’s Repreive. Ros. Tho’ I live wretched, let me live. In some deep Dungeon let me lye, Cover’d from ev’ry human Eye, Banish’d the Day, debarr’d the Light; Where Shades of everlasting Night May this unhappy Face disarm, And cast a Veil o’er ev’ry Charm: Offended Heav’n I’ll there adore, Nor see the Sun, nor Henry more. Queen. Moving Language, shining Tears, Glowing Guilt, and graceful Fears, Kindling Pity, kindling Rage, At once provoke me, and asswage. [Aside Ros. What shall I do to pacifie Your kindled Vengeance? Queen. —Thou shalt die. [Offering the Dagger. Ros. Give me but one short Moment’s stay. —O Henry why so far away? [Aside. Queen. Prepare to welter in a Flood Of streaming Gore. [Offering the Dagger. Ros. —O spare my Blood, And let me grasp the deadly Bowl. [Takes the Bowl in her Hand. Queen. Ye Pow’rs how Pity rends my Soul! [Aside. Ros. Thus prostrate at your Feet I fall. O let me still for Mercy call. [Falling on her Knees. Accept, Great Queen, like injur’d Heav’n, The Soul that Begs to be Forgiv’n: If in the latest Gasp of Breath, If in the dreadful Pains of Death, When the cold Damp bedews your Brow, You hope for Mercy, show it now. Queen. Mercy to lighter Crimes is due, Horrors and Death shall thine pursue. [Offering the Dagger. Ros. Thus I prevent the fatal Blow. [Drinks. —Whither, ah! whither shall I go! Queen. Where thy past Life thou shalt lament, And wish thou had’st been Innocent. Ros. Tyrant! to aggravate the Stroke, And wound a Heart already broke. My dying Soul with Fury burns, And slighted Grief to Madness turns, Think not, thou Author of my Woe, That Rosamond will leave thee so: At dead of Night Aglaring Spright Page 25With hideous Screams I’ll haunt thy Dreams, And when the painful Night withdraws, My Henry shall Revenge my Cause. O whither does my Frenzy drive! Forgive my Rage, your Wrongs forgive. My Veins are froze, my Blood grows chill, The weary Springs of Life stand still, The Sleep of Death benums all o’er My fainting Limbs, and I’m no more. [Falls on the Couch. Queen. [To her At|tendants. Hear, you who wait on my Commands! Beneath those Hills a Convent stands, Where the fam’d Streams of Isis stray; Thither the breathless Coarse convey, And bid the Cloister’d Maids with care The due Solemnities prepare. [Exeunt with the Body. When vanquish’d Foes beneath us lye How great it is to bid them die! But how much greater to forgive, And bid a vanquish’d Foe to love! Enter Sir Trusty in a Fright. A breathless Corps! what have I seen! And follow’d by the Jealous Queen! It must be she! my Fears are true: The Bowl of pois’nous Juice I view. How can the fam’d Sir Trusty live To hear his Master chide and grieve? Page 26No! tho’ I hate such bitter Beer, Fair Rosamond I’ll pledge thee here. [Drinks. The King this doleful News shall read In Lines of my Inditing: Great Sir, [Writes. Your Rosamond is dead As I am at this present writing. The Bow’r turns round, my Brain’s abus’d, The Labyrinth grows more confus’d, The Thickets Dance—I stretch, I yawn, Death has tripp’d up my Heels—I’m gone. [Staggers and falls. Re-enter Queen, sola. The Conflict of my Mind is o’er, And Rosamond shall Charm no more. Hence ye secret Damps of Care, Fierce Disdain, and cold Despair, Hence ye Fears and Doubts remove; Hence Grief and Hate! Ye Pains that wait On Jealousie, the Rage of Love. My Henry shall be mine Alone, The Heroe shall be All my own; Nobler Joys possess my Heart Than Crowns and Scepters can impart. ACT III. SCENE I.Scene a Grotto, Henry asleep, a Cloud descends, in it two Angels suppos’d to be the Guardian Spirits of the British Kings in War and in Peace. 1 Ang. BEhold th’ unhappy Monarch there, That claims our Tutelary Care! 2 Ang. In Fields of Death around his Head A Shield of Adamant I spread. 1 Ang. In Hours of Peace unseen, unknown, I hover o’er the British Throne. 2 Ang. When Hosts of Foes with Foes engage And round th’ anointed Heroe rage, The cleaving Fauchion I misguide And turn the feather’d Shaft aside. 1 Ang. When dark fermenting Factions swell, And prompt th’ Ambitious to rebel, A thousand Terrors I impart, And damp the furious Traitor’s Heart. Both. But O what Influence can remove The Pangs of Grief, and Rage of Love! 2. Ang. I’ll fire his Soul with mighty Themes ‘Till Love before Ambition fly. 1 Ang. I’ll sooth his Cares in pleasing Dreams ‘Till Grief in joyful Raptures die. 2 Ang. Whatever glorious and renown’d In British Annals can be found; Whatever Actions shall adorn Britannia’s Heroes yet unborn Page 28In dreadful Visions shall succeed; On fancy’d Fields the Gaul shall bleed, Cressy shall stand before his Eyes, And Agincourt and Blenheim rise. 1 Ang. See, see, he smiles amidst his Trance, And shakes a visionary Lance, His Brain is fill’d with loud Alarms, Shouting Armies, clashing Arms, The softer Prints of Love deface; And Trumpets sound in ev’ry Trace. Both. Glory strives, The Field is won, Fame revives And Love is gone. 1 Ang. To calm thy Grief and lull thy Cares, Look up and see What, after long revolving Years, Thy Bow’r shall be! When Time its Beauties shall deface, And only with its Ruins grace The future Prospect of the Place. Scene changes to the Plan of Blen|heim Castle. Behold the glorious Pile ascending! Columns swelling, Arches bending, Domes in awful Pomp arising, Art in curious Strokes surprizing, Foes in figur’d Fights contending, Behold the glorious Pile ascending! 2 Ang. He sees, he sees the great Reward For Anna’s mighty Chief prepar’d: His growing Joys no Measure keep, Too vehement and fierce for Sleep. 1 Ang. Let Grief and Love at once engage, His Heart is Proof to all their Pain; Love may plead— 2 Ang. —And Grief may rage— Both. But both shall plead and rage in vain. [The Angels ascend, and the Vision dis|appears. Henry starting from the Couch. Where have my ravish’d Senses been! What Joys, what Wonders have I seen! The Scene yet stands before my Eye: A thousand glorious Deeds that lye In deep Futurity obscure, Fights and Triumphs Immature, Heroes immers’d in Time’s dark Womb, Ripening for mighty Years to come, Break forth, and to the Day display’d, My soft inglorious Hours upbraid. Transported with so bright a Scheme My Waking Life appears a Dream. Adieu, ye wanton Shades and Bow’rs, Wreaths of Myrtle, Beds of Flow’rs, Rosie Brakes, Silver Lakes, To Love and you A long Adieu! O Rosamond! O rising Woe! Why do my weeping Eyes o’erflow? O Rosamond! O fair distress’d! How shall my Heart, with Grief oppress’d, Page 30Its unrelenting Purpose tell; And take the long, the last Farewel! Rise, Glory, rise in all thy Charms, Thy waving Crest, and burnish’d Arms, Spread thy gilded Banners round, Make thy thund’ring Courser Bound, Bid the Drum and Trumpet join, Warm my Soul with Rage Divine; All thy Pomps around thee call: To Conquer Love will ask ’em all. [Exit. SCENE changes to that Part of the Bow’r where Sir Trusty lies upon the Ground, with the Bowl and Dagger on the Table. Enter Queen Ev’ry Star, and ev’ry Pow’r, Look down on this important Hour: Lend your Protection and Defence Ev’ry Guard of Innocence! Help me my Henry to asswage, To gain his Love, or bear his Rage. Misterious Love, uncertain Treasure, Hast thou more of Pain or Pleasure! Chill’d with Tears, Kill’d with Fears, Endless Torments dwell about thee: Yet who would live, and live without thee! But oh the Sight my Soul alarms: My Lord appears, I’m all on Fire! Why am I banish’d from his Arms? My Heart’s too full, I must retire. [Retires to the End of the Stage. Page 31Enter King. Some dreadful Birth of Fate is near: Or why, my Soul, unus’d to fear With secret Horror dost thou shake? Can Dreams such dire Impressions make! What means this solemn silent Show? This Pomp of Death, this Scene of Woe! Support me, Heav’n! What’s this I read? O Horror! Rosamond is dead. What shall I say, or whither turn? With Grief, and Rage, and Love, I burn: From Thought to Thought my Soul is toss’d, And in the Whirle of Passion lost. Why did I not in Battle fall, Crush’d with the Thunder of the Gaul? Why did the Spear my Bosom miss? Ye Pow’rs, was I reserv’d for this! Dictracted with Woe I’ll rush on the Foe To seek my Relief: The Sword or the Dart Shall pierce my sad Heart, And finish my Grief! Queen. Fain wou’d my Tongue his Heart appease, And give his raging Tortures Ease. [Aside. King. But see! the Cause of all my Fears, The Source of all my Grief appears! No unexpected Guest is here; The fatal Bowl Inform’d my Soul Eleonora was too near. Queen. Why do I here my Lord receive? King. Is this the Welcome that you give? Queen. Thus shou’d divided Lovers meet? Both. And is it thus, ah! thus we greet! Queen. What in these guilty Shades cou’d you, Inglorious Conqueror, pursue? King. Cruel Woman, what cou’d you? Queen. Degen’rate Thoughts have fir’d your Breast. King. The Thirst of Blood has yours possess’d, Queen. A Heart so unrepenting, King. A Rage so unrelenting, Both. Will for ever Love dissever, Will for ever break our Rest. King. Floods of Sorrow will I shed To mourn the Lovely Shade! My Rosamond, alas, is dead, And where, O where convey’d! So bright a Bloom, so soft an Air, Did ever Nymph disclose! The Lilly was not half so fair, Nor half so sweet the Rose. Queen. How is his Heart with Anguish torn! [Aside My Lord, I cannot see you Mourn, The Living you lament: While I To be lamented so cou’d Die. King. The Living! speak, oh speak again! Why will you dally with my Pain? Queen. Were your lov’d Rosamond alive Wou’d not my former Wrongs revive? King. Oh no, by Visions from above, Prepar’d for Grief, and freed from Love, I came to take my last Adieu, Queen. How am I bless’d if this be true!— [Aside. King. And leave th’ unhappy Nymph for you. But O!— Queen. —Forbear, my Lord, to grieye, And know your Rosamond does Live. If ’tis Joy to wound a Lover, How much more to give him Ease? When his Passion we discover, Oh how pleasing ’tis to please! The Bliss returns, and we receive Transports greater than we give. King. O quickly relate This Riddle of Fate! My Impatience forgive, Does Rosamond live? Queen. The Bowl, with drowsie Juices fill’d, From cold Egyptian Drugs distill’d, In borrow’d Death has clos’d her Eyes: But soon the waking Nymph shall rise, And, in a Convent plac’d, admire The Cloister’d Walls, and Virgin Quire, With them in Songs and Hymns divine The beauteous Penitent shall join, And bid the guilty World Adieu, King. How am I blest if this be true!— [Aside. Queen. Atoning for her self and you. King. I ask no more! Secure the Fair In Life and Bliss: I ask not where: For ever from my Fancy fled May the whole World believe her dead, That no foul Minister of Vice Again my sinking Soul intice Its broken Passion to renew, But let me live and die with you. Queen. How does my Heart for such a Prize The vain censorious World despise! Tho’ distant Ages, yet unborn, For Rosamond shall falsly mourn; And with the present Times agree, To brand my Name with Cruelty; How does my Heart for such a Prize The vain censorious World despise! But see your Slave, while yet I speak, From his dull Trance unfetter’d break! As he the Potion shall survive Believe your Rosamond alive. King. O happy Day! O pleasing View! My Queen forgives— Queen. —My Lord is true. King. No more I’ll change, Queen. No more I’ll grieve, Both. But ever thus united live. Sir Trusty awaking. In which World am I! all I see, Ev’ry Thicket, Bush and Tree, Page 35So like the Place from whence I came, That one wou’d swear it were the same. My former Legs too, by their Pace! And by the Whiskers, ’tis my Face! The self-same Habit, Garb and Mien! They ne’er wou’d bury me in Green. Enter Grideline. Grid. Have I then liv’d to see this Hour, And took thee in the very Bow’r? Sir Tr. Widow Trusty, why so fine? Why dost thou thus in Colours shine? Thou shou’dst thy Husband’s Death bewail In sable Vesture, Peak and Veil. Grid. Forbear these foolish Freaks, and see How our good King and Queen agree. Why shou’d not we their Steps pursue And do as our Superiors do? Sir Tr. Am I bewitch’d, or do I dream? I know not who, or where I am, Or what I hear, or what I see, But this I’m sure, howe’er it be, It suits a Person in my Station T’ observe the Mode, and be in Fashion. Then let not Grideline the Chast Offended be for what is past, And hence anew my Vows I plight To be a faithful courteous Knight. Grid. I’ll too my plighted Vows renew, Since ’tis so courtly to be true. Since conjugal Passion Is come into Fashion, And Marriage so blest on the Throne is, Like a Venus I’ll shine, Be fond and be fine, And Sir Trusty shall be my Adonis. Sir Tr. And Sir Trusty shall be thy Adonis. The King and Queen advancing. King. Who to forbidden Joys wou’d rove, That knows the Sweets of virtuous Love? Hymen, thou Source of chast Delights, Chearful Days, and blissful Nights, Thou dost untainted Joys dispence, And Pleasure join with Innocence, Thy Raptures last, and are sincere From future Grief and present Fear. Both. Who to forbidden Joys wou’d rove, That knows the Sweets of virtuous Love. SCENE changes to that Part of the Bow’r where Sir Trusty lies upon the Ground, with the Bowl and Dagger on the Table. Enter Queen Ev’ry Star, and ev’ry Pow’r, Look down on this important Hour: Lend your Protection and Defence Ev’ry Guard of Innocence! Help me my Henry to asswage, To gain his Love, or bear his Rage. Misterious Love, uncertain Treasure, Hast thou more of Pain or Pleasure! Chill’d with Tears, Kill’d with Fears, Endless Torments dwell about thee: Yet who would live, and live without thee! But oh the Sight my Soul alarms: My Lord appears, I’m all on Fire! Why am I banish’d from his Arms? My Heart’s too full, I must retire. [Retires to the End of the Stage. Page 31Enter King. Some dreadful Birth of Fate is near: Or why, my Soul, unus’d to fear With secret Horror dost thou shake? Can Dreams such dire Impressions make! What means this solemn silent Show? This Pomp of Death, this Scene of Woe! Support me, Heav’n! What’s this I read? O Horror! Rosamond is dead. What shall I say, or whither turn? With Grief, and Rage, and Love, I burn: From Thought to Thought my Soul is toss’d, And in the Whirle of Passion lost. Why did I not in Battle fall, Crush’d with the Thunder of the Gaul? Why did the Spear my Bosom miss? Ye Pow’rs, was I reserv’d for this! Dictracted with Woe I’ll rush on the Foe To seek my Relief: The Sword or the Dart Shall pierce my sad Heart, And finish my Grief! Queen. Fain wou’d my Tongue his Heart appease, And give his raging Tortures Ease. [Aside. King. But see! the Cause of all my Fears, The Source of all my Grief appears! No unexpected Guest is here; The fatal Bowl Inform’d my Soul Eleonora was too near. Queen. Why do I here my Lord receive? King. Is this the Welcome that you give? Queen. Thus shou’d divided Lovers meet? Both. And is it thus, ah! thus we greet! Queen. What in these guilty Shades cou’d you, Inglorious Conqueror, pursue? King. Cruel Woman, what cou’d you? Queen. Degen’rate Thoughts have fir’d your Breast. King. The Thirst of Blood has yours possess’d, Queen. A Heart so unrepenting, King. A Rage so unrelenting, Both. Will for ever Love dissever, Will for ever break our Rest. King. Floods of Sorrow will I shed To mourn the Lovely Shade! My Rosamond, alas, is dead, And where, O where convey’d! So bright a Bloom, so soft an Air, Did ever Nymph disclose! The Lilly was not half so fair, Nor half so sweet the Rose. Queen. How is his Heart with Anguish torn! [Aside My Lord, I cannot see you Mourn, The Living you lament: While I To be lamented so cou’d Die. King. The Living! speak, oh speak again! Why will you dally with my Pain? Queen. Were your lov’d Rosamond alive Wou’d not my former Wrongs revive? King. Oh no, by Visions from above, Prepar’d for Grief, and freed from Love, I came to take my last Adieu, Queen. How am I bless’d if this be true!— [Aside. King. And leave th’ unhappy Nymph for you. But O!— Queen. —Forbear, my Lord, to grieye, And know your Rosamond does Live. If ’tis Joy to wound a Lover, How much more to give him Ease? When his Passion we discover, Oh how pleasing ’tis to please! The Bliss returns, and we receive Transports greater than we give. King. O quickly relate This Riddle of Fate! My Impatience forgive, Does Rosamond live? Queen. The Bowl, with drowsie Juices fill’d, From cold Egyptian Drugs distill’d, In borrow’d Death has clos’d her Eyes: But soon the waking Nymph shall rise, And, in a Convent plac’d, admire The Cloister’d Walls, and Virgin Quire, With them in Songs and Hymns divine The beauteous Penitent shall join, And bid the guilty World Adieu, King. How am I blest if this be true!— [Aside. Queen. Atoning for her self and you. King. I ask no more! Secure the Fair In Life and Bliss: I ask not where: For ever from my Fancy fled May the whole World believe her dead, That no foul Minister of Vice Again my sinking Soul intice Its broken Passion to renew, But let me live and die with you. Queen. How does my Heart for such a Prize The vain censorious World despise! Tho’ distant Ages, yet unborn, For Rosamond shall falsly mourn; And with the present Times agree, To brand my Name with Cruelty; How does my Heart for such a Prize The vain censorious World despise! But see your Slave, while yet I speak, From his dull Trance unfetter’d break! As he the Potion shall survive Believe your Rosamond alive. King. O happy Day! O pleasing View! My Queen forgives— Queen. —My Lord is true. King. No more I’ll change, Queen. No more I’ll grieve, Both. But ever thus united live. Sir Trusty awaking. In which World am I! all I see, Ev’ry Thicket, Bush and Tree, Page 35So like the Place from whence I came, That one wou’d swear it were the same. My former Legs too, by their Pace! And by the Whiskers, ’tis my Face! The self-same Habit, Garb and Mien! They ne’er wou’d bury me in Green. Enter Grideline. Grid. Have I then liv’d to see this Hour, And took thee in the very Bow’r? Sir Tr. Widow Trusty, why so fine? Why dost thou thus in Colours shine? Thou shou’dst thy Husband’s Death bewail In sable Vesture, Peak and Veil. Grid. Forbear these foolish Freaks, and see How our good King and Queen agree. Why shou’d not we their Steps pursue And do as our Superiors do? Sir Tr. Am I bewitch’d, or do I dream? I know not who, or where I am, Or what I hear, or what I see, But this I’m sure, howe’er it be, It suits a Person in my Station T’ observe the Mode, and be in Fashion. Then let not Grideline the Chast Offended be for what is past, And hence anew my Vows I plight To be a faithful courteous Knight. Grid. I’ll too my plighted Vows renew, Since ’tis so courtly to be true. Since conjugal Passion Is come into Fashion, And Marriage so blest on the Throne is, Like a Venus I’ll shine, Be fond and be fine, And Sir Trusty shall be my Adonis. Sir Tr. And Sir Trusty shall be thy Adonis. The King and Queen advancing. King. Who to forbidden Joys wou’d rove, That knows the Sweets of virtuous Love? Hymen, thou Source of chast Delights, Chearful Days, and blissful Nights, Thou dost untainted Joys dispence, And Pleasure join with Innocence, Thy Raptures last, and are sincere From future Grief and present Fear. Both. Who to forbidden Joys wou’d rove, That knows the Sweets of virtuous Love. |
http://comments.gmane.org/gmane.culture.templar.rosemont/1231
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Royal_Standard_of_the_United_Kingdom
https://rosamondpress.com/2015/05/27/association-for-the-advancement-of-truth-in-art/
Rosamond Press 
Reblogged this on rosamondpress and commented:
I accuse Donald Trump of Art Fraud and destruction of Art on par with ISIS. Rosamond’s imitator, Sara Moon, was a man who cranked out imitations of my sister’s work. Trump created an alias, John Baron who tried to cover-up Trump’s destruction of Art. I will make a citizen’s arrest. When first questioned about the fate of the sculptures, Trump spokesman John Barron claimed that three independent appraisers had declared them to be “without artistic merit” — an assessment that flabbergasted Ashton Hawkins, vice president and secretary of the board of trustees of the Met.
(Update: Washington Post colleague Michael Kranish, showing his excellent memory, points out that “John Barron,” sometimes spelled “Baron,” was actually a false name Trump used in phone interviews during the 1980s. At the time of its reporting on the sculptures, the Times had not yet discovered the ruse.)
“Can you imagine the museum accepting them if they were not of artistic merit?” he asked.
Barron said removing the pieces would have cost $32,000 and delayed work by at least a week and a half.
In a follow-up story the next day, Barron conceded that the rare bronze grillwork was missing and said “we don’t know what happened to it.”
On the third day of Sculpture-gate, a Times story noted that “repeated efforts over the last three days to reach Mr. Trump have been unavailing.”
On the fourth day, Trump finally talked — using his own name:
Donald J. Trump said last night that he had ordered the destruction of two Art Deco bas-relief sculptures on the Bonwit Teller Building last week because their removal could have cost more than $500,000 in taxes, demolition delays and other expenses, and might have endangered passing pedestrians on Fifth Avenue.
”My biggest concern was the safety of people on the street below,” said the 33-year-old developer, who contended that cranes, scaffolding and the most careful handling could not have assured the safe removal of the cracked and weathered two-ton limestone panels from high on the building’s facade. http://www.sara-moon.com/sm-other/sm-other-html/who-where.htm https://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=1350&dat=19800605&id=-UVPAAAAIBAJ&sjid=FwMEAAAAIBAJ&pg=4962,2307356&hl=en https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZRJZ_70y20
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DFAX0hyS0IA