Oh! how I grieve! you ne'er her charms can know.

She's sweet fifteen, I'm one year more,

Yet still we are too young, they say,
But we know better sure than they,
Youth should not listen to threescore;
And I'm resolv'd I'll tell her so,

When next we whisper soft and low; Oh! how I grieve! you ne'er her charms can know. [Exit. Mat. Antonio!----he is gone----now then I may safely use my sight.----[Takes the bandage from her eyes.] A fortress, indeed---there are towers, and moats, and battlements. They say it is strongly guarded, and almost inaccessible. Its appearance at least justifies the report that was made to me; for in this wild and sequester'd spot, such a pile could only be employed to hide some mighty captive.---Oh, Richard! my hero! beloved! what hardships may you not be enduring! nor have you even the sad consolation to know that your faithful Matilda, exil'd for her love to you, has abandoned every hope and duty, and in this poor and base disguise, pursues your name, and wanders through the world! But here my cares and search shall end. If my foreboding soul misleads me, and this spot affords no tidings of its lord, then, if my heart breaks not, in the near convent's cell I'll hide my woes and shame for ever.

my

Enter Sir OWEN and GUILLOT.

Sir O. I'll teach you to bring letters to my

daughter.

SONG. Matilda.

Oh, Richard! oh, my love!
By the faithless world forgot,
I alone in exile rove,

To lament thy hapless lot.
I alone of all remain

To unbind thy cruel chain,

By the faithless world forgot;
I, whose bosom sunk in grief,
Least have strength to yield relief.

Delusive glory! faithless pow'r !
Thus the valiant you repay,
In disaster's heavy hour,
Faithless friendship's far away.
Yet, royal youth,

One faithful heart,

From tenderest truth,

Though hopeless, never shall depart.

Oh, Richard! oh, my love!

By the faithless world forgot;
I alone in exile rove,

To lament thy hapless lot.

But I hear a noise; 1 must resume my disguise,

Guil. Sir, 'twas the governor sent me. Sir O. The governor! what's the governor to me?

QUARTETTO. Matilda, Guillot, Sir Owen, and

Laurette.

Sir O. What care I for the

governor? Mat. Oh! should it be this governor. [Aside. Guil. He sent me, I knew no better,

-with the letter.

Sir O. My daughter listen to his art,
What my Laurette
So far forget,

The modest virgin's duteous part!
And thou---I pray [To Guillot]
Good knave, shall I the postage pay?
Guil. No, Sir, indeed,

There is no need,

I'm gone with speed.

Enter LAURETTE.

Sir O. Pray tell your governor,
His hopes are vain

Laurette to gain.

His lordship is by far too good,
And I wou'd thank him if I cou'd.

C

Mat. If of this castle he should be

The governor----what joy for me. [Aside.
Guil. Yet he's my lord the governor.
Sir O. What's he to me, your governor;
Begone, I say,

You'd best not stay;
And you, if ever I discover-

You lend an ear

To this designing lover,

[To Laurette,

Then, then, you shall have cause to fear. Mat. Ah! should it be, what joy for me.

Laur.

[Aside.

Come, come, my friends, no quarrel,

pray,

Your anger cease,

Keep, keep the peace.

What can this be?

I never see,

The governor.

[To them.

Mat. Ah! should it be this governor,

Ah! should it be, what joy for me.

[Aside.

Come, come, my friends, no quarrel,

pray,

Your anger cease,

Keep, keep the peace, &c.

[Exit Guillot.

Sir O. Get into the house---in, I say. [Exit

Laurette.] She tells me she never sees him-

that she never speaks to him, and yet he writes to her. The governor is a very civil gentleman, only he wants to run away with my daughter--and she is very obedient to her father----only she'll do nothing I bid her---I should like to know what all this is now. [Looking at the letter.]----The governor writes a military hand--his letters edge out a chevaux de frize fashion-all zig-zag---like his own fortification----I can't make any way through it---I wish I had somebody to decipher it---Oh! here's a sort of an outlandish lad---I may trust him---Youngster--can you read?

Mat. Oh yes, Sir.

Sir O. Well then read me this.

[Offers the letter. Mat. Oh! indeed, Sir! I could once, but the cruel Saracens

Sir O. The Saracens---what did the Saracens do to you?

Mat. The cruel monsters put out my eyes, having taken me prisoner in a great battle, where I was page to a captain in King Richard's army! But have you not seen a little boy?

Sir O. Yes.

Mat. 'Tis he who guides me---He can read, and will do whatever you bid him,

Sir O. Oh! here he comes, I believe,